The Game is On
by basilisk-chan
Summary: The cantankerous, yet brilliant Detective Alice Kirkland and her newest assistant, Francis Bonnefoy, are off to a rough start. She's a woman with secrets, a broken heart and a connection to the Italian Mafia. He's a disowned rich kid who's newly homeless and a single father. Can they patch up their wounds or will London's newest serial killer ruin everything? The game is on.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

Francis Bonnefoy was unbelievably, undeniably, pathetically, at the lowest point in his entire existence.

He'd seen bad times during his life: Being shunned by his parents, the death of the woman he loved, that time he was caught getting very-*ahem*-familiar, with a married duchess, and that one time he caught a flu that was circulating in Paris.

But this? This had to be one of the worst parts of his life.

London, he firmly decided, was positively dreadful. It didn't help, he supposed, that he had come during the summer, when the weather was hot and sticky and the air was heavy with sweat.

And his bitterness didn't stop there.

The Frenchman was anchored to a small, cramped flat near the railroads. His only company was his five-year-old son who refused to speak since his mother's death, three years ago.

His connections managed to find himself a job, but there was one little problem that was actually quite a big problem: He'd never worked a day in his life.

Okay, so he knew a little about gardening and baking, but never enough to maim his beautiful hands. He was above such things, such-such...peasant-like things! Things his servants did! " _Eh bien, pas plus_." He muttered sulkily before entering the looming white-marble building in front of him.

The Royal Justice and Crime Investigation Building of London.

The inside was just as grand as the outside, if not more. The arches reached up high, like in the Church of Notre Dame back in Paris. " _Excusez-moi_ ," Francis frowned slightly at the confused look the desk-lady gave him. Uncultured English. "Could you...direct me to my new-n-new boss?" He stuttered, the strange words stammered across his tongue, alien.

"Name?" The woman sighed out, slightly dreamily. She'd just noticed how handsome the man in front of her was.

"A-ah, Francis Bonnefoy." He internally smirked. Even here, in stuck-up, proud England, did he find victims to his gorgeous self.

The woman grinned at him, leaning closer, protruding her chest and lowering her voice seductively. "Mary Sue," She licked her lips, "But you can-"

"Yo, hey, dude!" Mary yanked back and whipped a piercing glare at a man that was jogging up to them. He had golden hair with some sort of weird cowlick that seemed to bob up and down, like it had a life of its own, and bright blue eyes behind glasses.

He, in one word, was: BIG. Not fat, particularly, just muscular. And tall. Very tall.

He was dressed in a navy blue uniform, but it was halfway buttoned (Showing a blaring American flag) and his left arm...It had been replaced with a humming, red, white and blue bionic arm that looked like it could crush Francis in a millisecond.

"Hey, Mary." The man remained oblivious of her glare. "Hey, your Francis Bonnefoy, right? Your boss had a feelin' that you might get caught up here." He gave Mary a teasing wink.

"How in ze world did-" Francis was interrupted by the American's loud laugh.

"Dude, don't sweat it! Mary flirts with everyone that passes through here."

"Damn you, you cheeseburger-eating wanker!" Mary threw her pink stapler, face ready to explode.

"Run, man, run!" Alfred's bionic arm snatched Francis' wrist and launched into a full-speed run, laughing manically and bowling through everybody in his path. "Move, bitch! Move, bitch! Get out the way, Bitch~!" He sung loudly.

 _Oh. God._ Francis thought. _Someone kill me. Now._

The two men crashed into the elevator. "Yo, dude, you okay?" Alfred grinned at Francis.

"I zink I lost my stomach," Francis muttered bitterly, glaring at Alfred. Stupid commoner.

Alfred laughed again. "Here," he held out two suckers. "Bubblegum or rootbeer?"

"...Bubblegum?" Francis said, weakly (Still panting from the chase). " _Merci_ ,"

"Oh, yeah! Your boss said you were French." Alfred stuck the root beer sucker in his mouth. "Man, I wonder 'ow lon' you'll las'."

It was hard to make out what he said, but Francis managed. "What do you mean 'how long I'll last'?"

"Mhmph, well..." Alfred looked around nervously, as if someone were spying on them. They were the only ones in the elevator. He took the sucker out of his mouth and gave Francis a dead serious expression. This American had a severe case of Bipolar. "Not many people can deal with her, y'know? And she doesn't really deal with other people, either, dude."

"She?" Francis' jaw dropped. "A woman homicide detective?"

Alfred grinned, but this time in pride. "Yep!" He popped the 'p'. "But don't be fooled by the fact she's a girl, 'kay? And ya probably shouldn't say anything like that to her, she'll kick ya right in the jingle bells."

Francis' nose wrinkled. "She sounds absolutely horrid."

"Whoa, hey, buddy! You haven't even met her yet." Alfred stood and pulled Francis up. They were almost there. "I've known her since I was five."

The elevator stopped at the fifth floor. "Why so high up?" Francis asked.

"Oh, that's because there's not enough room for us all to fit on one floor, dude." Alfred licked his sucker. "The bottom floors where me and my buddies are, y'know, the police? It helps the reacting time. And second floor is the lunch room, the third is the detectives and fourth is the laboratory."

"And ze fifz?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"This is your boss's floor." Alfred caught Francis' look and laughed again. "Yep, she's got her own floor. She said she couldn't concentrate with all the chatter that went on in the third floor and the people from the third floor hated how much of a hermit she is. So, the big cheeses thought it'd be better for another floor to be made. They can't afford to lose her, she's the best damn detective in Britain."

Francis sighed.

Great. Just great.

He somehow manages to get himself kicked out of Paris (And homeless), then manages to find a job (But one that he has no desire or knowledge of) and then it turns out that his boss is some sort of anti-social maniac that just so happens to be a woman!

He could imagine her clearly in his head.

Crooked and yellow teeth, gnarly hands, a possible tendency to talk to imaginary things, a split personality and maybe even a slight taste for human flesh.

Wonderful.

"Here it is," Alfred stopped. **Alice Kirkland** the door was plated with a golden plate. Alfred kicked the door. "Yo, Alice, let me in, dudette!"

There was a loud crash and yelp of surprise. "Damn you, Alfred!" There was a bit of rustling as someone made their way to the door. The lock clicked and the door was swung open widely. A woman seethed. **_"What the bloody hell do you want?"_**

Francis' first thought was: _Oh, mon Dieu._

A woman about Francis' height stood in the doorway, glaring at the two.

Her hair was pale, ash blonde and had been slicked back into a strict bun, leaving only stubborn bangs to frame her fair face. Her eyebrows were bushier than most people Francis met, and whatever womanly curves she might've had were hidden by her poor choice of clothes: Trousers, blouse, waistcoat and Francis could see a trench coat lying on the floor just behind her.

All in all, this woman wasn't that dazzling. But...

Her eyes.

Her eyes were gorgeous. They burned with irritation, a smoldered bright emerald color. Like grass or tree leaves. Francis couldn't stop staring. _Oh, mon Dieu_. The more he stared, the enamored he became. That wild ash blonde bangs were oh so tempting to just reach out and run his hands through, so tempting to cup her fair face and kiss away the pouty frown on her pink lips.

 _Oh, mon Dieu_.

XXX

Alice stared at the man in front of her.

She had no need for a bloody assistant. They were annoying, at best, and tried to be helpful at worst. She worked better alone. And telling by the Frenchman in front of her, her employers were getting desperate to find someone to work for her.

Alfred had quickly fled after introducing her to Francis Bonnefoy, leaving the two to get to know each other better.

Truth be told, it was mainly Alice wishing the frog would stop drooling like a perverted old man. "Alice. Alice Kirkland." She thrust her hand out. "A pleasure to meet you," It really wasn't.

Startled, the man blushed at her and managed a smile. " _Oui._ "

Alice raised an eyebrow.

 _Smooth hands, manicured telling by the slight gloss, but they were dulled. Someone's lost their family heritage._ Bonnefoy wasn't a very common name nowadays, but it was the name of the family that ran a large wine company in France, rumored to be relatives of the French royal family. _Soft skin, fair. Hasn't spent too long outside. Velvet indigo eyes, groomed eyebrows, no acne blemishes, silky blond hair and perfect posture._ Alice sighed slightly.

Great. A rich boy. A **_French_** rich boy. "I'll show you to your office."

No one liked to work with Alice.

She was unfriendly, bitter, sarcastic all the time and muttered to herself as if she had imaginary friends and she wasn't all that easy on the eyes. It didn't hurt Alice. She didn't see any reason in trying to make hateful people love you. Or anyone love you. If it really was love, it didn't need to be forced.

Of course, she didn't have very much room to speak. The last man she had loved abandoned her years ago for another woman with bigger breasts and a better personality.

The Assistant's office wasn't far from Alice's and looked like they had just stepped into a newly built room. Well, if you ignored the thick layer of dust that had accumulating everywhere. " _Mon Dieu_ ," Francis gasped, horror etched on his face. "When was ze last time someone was in here?"

Alice snorted and made her way to the covered windows. "A year and a half, maybe two." She yanked the curtains open, revealing busy London. Smoke plumed from factories, dirigibles soared through the air and the streets could still be faintly heard from that high up.

"And why did they leave?" Francis ventured, setting his suitcase on the dirty desk. He needed to get cleaning as soon as possible.

Alice shrugged. "Same reason everyone else does. I don't know why the board keeps trying to assign me with assistants all the bloody damn time, they just leave in a week or two. You'll be gone in a couple of days, at most, I imagine."

"What makes you zink zat?" Francis moved over to Alice, trying to sound like her comment hurt him.

Alice glanced at him, suspiciously. She didn't miss how he was quietly shuffling himself closer to her. Wonderful. Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic. A flirt. **_A rich French flirt._** "Because I know what kind of person you are."

"And what-" Francis paused, his voice low and husky. Time to turn on the sex appeal. "-kind of person am I?"

Alice paused, risking a quick glance at his lips. _Nice and smooth. Light pink and full, too._

Fine. If the little frog wanted to play, then they'll play.

Alice leaned in closer, almost chest to chest with Francis. "You're the kind of man that whispers sweet nothings to his lover, the kind that is a diehard romantic, the kind that will fuck everything that can move and maybe even things that don't. Just for the fun of it."

Alice pulled away, snickering at the appalled face of the Frenchman in front of her. Did he seriously think that she'd just lay down and be another one of his toys?

"You're a rich boy. Never worked a bloody day in your life and you're not here because you want to be. You did something. Something scandalous enough for you to be shunned out of your family." She smirked at his slack jaw. "So, tell me, frog, what kind of woman am I?"

It was a trick question, really.

If he praised her, he was a simpering ass-kisser and a liar. If he bashed her for her rudeness, he was hotheaded and wouldn't be able to handle anything more than paperwork and would most likely leave next week for the lack of respect that he got.

Francis stepped forward, his blood simmering. "You're a brittle woman, _chérie._ Your attitude is dreadful and your eyebrows need to be plucked and you need a closet change." He paused, looking into her eyes again. "But you have ze most _magnifique_ eyes I have ever seen."

Alice sputtered, whipping her head back to the man. What the fucking hell? Was he an ass-kisser or stupid? _Probably both_ , Alice muttered in her head. She recovered herself, but it was too late. Francis had already seen her fumble. Damn it. The Frenchman listened to her silent demand to continue. "And zat's not just it. I find your sour attitude _adorable._ "

Oh. No. He. Didn't.

Alice's eyes burned violent chills down Francis' spine. "Your paperwork is over there." Alice hissed, jabbing a finger at a three-foot-high pile of paperwork that Francis hadn't noticed before. "I want it done before the end of the day, **_at least_**."

Francis' shoulders slumped.

"And that's not even the tip of the iceberg." Alice gave him a sadistic grin, green eyes twinkling. "Oh, and frog?"

Francis turned to look at her. " _Oui_?"

"You're playing a game...And I'm not very good at loosing."

XXX

Francis took back every single kind thought that he might have harbored of his boss.

 ** _The woman was a fucking slave driver!_** His fingers screamed for relief, after filling out papers for more than five hours straight and he was rapidly losing patience with the rude _bâtards_ that couldn't seem to stop harassing him on the phone for more than two minutes.

"Yo, dude! You're still alive!" Alfred barged into the office, grinning and carrying two bags of...coffee and doughnuts?

" _Oui_ ," Francis mumbled, "Barely."

Alfred laughed. "Well, you're not screaming about how insane your boss is, that's pretty good for a rich boy."

"Is it really zat obvious?" Francis looked up, eyelids heavy.

"Totally, dude." Alfred gave Francis a bag. "Here, lunch is on me."

" _Merci_ , but won't Alice be upset zat you're in here? Or zat I won't be working?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Man, you musta really pissed her off!" Alfred laughed. "Nah, she's out on a case right now, anyway."

"Mmm," Francis inhaled the smell of coffee. It wasn't the premium, hand-ground that he was used to, but anything was better than nothing right now. "How could you tell zat I am-sorry, was a, err, 'rich boy'?"

Alfred gulped down a cup of coffee before stuffing his mouth with a doughnut. "I get a lot of cases about rich family feuds, murders for money, bastard children wanting some of the fortune. Y'know, that kinda thing." He paused a bit, stuffing in another doughnut. "But I can easily tell because I'm not rich."

" _Quoi?_ "

"Yeah, I mean, I notice the differences." Alfred said. "You're a hella lot prettier than any of the guys or girls here combined, and your posture is like totally perfect and your hands are smooth, so it's obvious you've never done any work in your life."

Francis just gaped. "You're good."

Alfred laughed again. "I know, right? I'm not nearly as good as Alice, though. She probably knew your whole life history after one look at you." He gulped down more coffee. "I learned from the best: Alice's dad."

"Her _papa_?"

"Yeah, he was awesome, man." Alfred's eyes kind of glazed over. "He had this cool beard and red hair and he was the best detective in Britain, if not the world!"

"How did you meet?"

"Alice found me, actually." Alfred said. "After my parents died and I had no relatives, I was kicked out of the orphanages because they were full. I lived on the streets before Alice found me on her way back from school. When I told her I didn't have a home, she dragged me back to her house. Her dad found me a home with his friends, and Alice and I have been total BFF's since!"

"How old were you?"

"I was five. Alice was eight." Alfred paused, counting with his fingers. "I've known her for twenty years! **_Twenty damn years!_** It's amazing that I can still stand her sorry ass."

"...Are you two, eh-"

"What? Nah, man!" Alfred waved him off, laughing again. "We're too much like family. And besides, I'm as straight as a slinky!"

"Oh, you're gay?" Francis looked up in surprise. "You didn't strike me as zat kind of guy,"

Alfred stuffed two doughnuts into his mouth. "And I got lucky! I landed myself a tall, sexy Russian lawyer!"

" _Félicitations_ ," Francis smiled at Alfred.

"Thanks-oh, man, I gotta go!" Alfred jumped off the chair he had been sitting on. "Oh, and Rich Boy?"

" _Oui_?"

"A word of advice on Alice," Alfred looked serious. "I tell most of her assistants this, but they never listen to me: Alice isn't very good at expressing her emotions. She's just too shy, as unbelievable as that is. Read in between the lines, y'know. Look for the hidden meanings."

XXX

10:00pm

"What the fucking hell are you still doing here?" Alice stood in the doorway.

"Oh, you're back," Francis offered a soft smile. Maybe if he tried to be nice to her, she would lay up on him. "I haven't finished all ze paper yet." He pointed to another fifty or so pages lying next to him.

Alice stared at him. This was...different. The other assistants would have left by now, saying that they didn't get paid for overtime, so why do it? She paused, watching him work away. Okay, maybe he wasn't completely useless. At least he had good worth ethic. "Do that tomorrow."

" _Quoi_?" Francis glanced up, flabbergasted.

"You heard me." Alice walked in and plucked the pen from his sore hands. "You don't get paid for overtime in your first year, Frog."

"Zat's fine," Francis tried to reach for the pen.

"No. No, it's not." Alice yanked her arm up again. "Your work will just get sloppier the further you go on. Plus, don't you have a kid waiting for you at home?"

"Well, he-" Francis paused, thinking about what Alfred said earlier. Read between the lines.

 _Stop working, you'll just burn yourself out on the first day. You don't need to overwork yourself. I'm worried about you...I'm worried about you...I'm worried about you..._

"What the fuck? Your face is red. Did you get sick or something?" Alice reached forward, but Francis leaped from his seat. **_I'm worried about you!_**

"I-I-I-I-I I'm fine. Perfectly fine!" Francis rushed over to his coat and grabbed his suitcase. "A-ah, g-g-g-g good Day-I mean, n-Night-Ms. Kirkland!" He dashed out of the office before she could say anything.

"...What the bloody hell got his knickers in a twist?"

 **Translations:**

 _Eh bien, pas plus_ = Well, no more

 _Excusez-moi_ = Excuse me

 _Merci_ = Thanks __

 _Oh, mon Dieu_ = Oh, my God

 _Oui_ = Yes

 _Chérie_ = Dear

 _Magnifique_ = Magnificent __

 _Bâtards_ = Bastards

 _Quoi_ = What __

 _Papa_ = Dad __

 _Félicitations_ = Congratulations _  
_


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Alice had been wrong, for once in her life.

Francis was still there, six months, eight days and three hours later from his first day and there were only two reasons for that, essentially.

One: the pay was great (As he later discovered), and two: He, the womanizer of Paris, found himself completely head-over-heels for Alice Kirkland and all her mostly-bitter-than-sweet-bitter-sweetness.

He decided to take up baking (since it was cheaper than fast food) and found that he was actually really good at it. He brought a different sweet to Alice every single day, despite her protests and violent swearing. It was so worth it to see the furious blush that refused to leave her face for a good three hours.

No one had ever stayed past three months, or had been so friendly or so...determined. He was good at running, Alice found out after watching an angry, drunken father chase Francis for flirting with his daughter. And it was in his nature to flirt. And it ran so deep inside him that he didn't even realize it happening.

The most irritating thing about his habits was Alice finding herself at the jail more often than not.

She didn't stop giving him lots of work (Who knows how long it would be until she got another assistant after Francis left?), but she always made sure he hauled his Froggy-ass back home before 8:30pm.

And then...And then Alice made a big mistake.

It was a stupid mistake and for God's sake, she was an adult! She shouldn't be feeling like some sort of bloody teenager that just hit puberty! But she was.

She, Alice Bloody Fucking Kirkland, found herself falling in love.

And not just with anyone, but an employee. A French employee, at that.

It went against all of her morals.

She promised she wouldn't put herself in harm's way again after her last failed relationship. She didn't want to feel that way again and falling in love with a womanizer was practically begging for it to happen.

The phone rang. "Hello?"

"Is this Detective Kirkland speaking?"

Alice groaned. "What now, Alfred?"

"What?!" Alfred gasped, "Man, I even used my 'fancy' voice!"

"Yes, and it's still terrible." Alice snorted. "Seriously, what is it?"

"We got another case." Alfred stopped joking around. "Blackwater manor, downtown London. 54Th street."

"Got it." Alice mumbled into the phone. "I'm heading over right now." Alice hung up quickly, scrambling to assemble her tools. "Frog, we got another one!" She said, stuffing her tools into her bag.

"Coming!"

"Move it!" Alice yelled, dashing out of her office. "And grab my tea!"

 _Damn that beautiful slave-driver._ Francis cursed his soft heart and rushed into Alice's office and grabbed her tall canteen of her weird 'Earl Grey-rum-cream-spoonful of honey' mixture.

XXX

Wednesday 6:57am, Blackwater manor on 54th street.

Blackwater manor wasn't nearly as gloomy as the name implied, Alice noted as the cab driver pulled into the driveway.

It was a two-story red brick mansion with wide windows and a surrounding hedge of yellow roses and a pond of dark brown water in the middle of the semi-circle driveway. It was simple. Plain. Homely and maybe a bit dull. "That's what makes it so eerie," Alice muttered to herself. A plain little manor in downtown London with dark secrets. With murder.

"Come pick us up in five hours," Alice gave the driver some money.

"'Bout time ya showed up!" Alfred met them at the door, his arms crossed and his face pale.

"Alfred, what do we got?" Alice and Francis met him at the manor door.

"Isabelle Blackwater, 19, female." Alfred led them through the manor. "Her best friend and grandmother found her body this morning. We called her twin sister, Valerie, so she should be here by tomorrow morning."

Alice heard Francis swear under his breath.

She stopped on the stairs. "Give me the bag and wait for me here." Alice held her hand out at Francis. "You don't need to see this. It's not really part of your job, anyway."

"I'll never get any experience if I don't get a chance," Francis whispered back to her. "And I'm your assistant. It's my job to be by your side, _non_?"

"...Are you sure you can handle it?" Alice nearly slapped herself for accidentally letting her emotions sink through.

" _Oui_ ," Francis gave her a reassuring smile. " _Merci, pour préoccupante, votre Majesté_."

Her face flushed bright red. "Shut up, Frog. I just don't want you vomiting all over the evidence."

" _Oui, oui_." Francis smirked. " _Votre Majesté~!_ "

Before Alice could retort, Alfred beat her to it. "Yo, lovebirds, you're cute an' all an' I'm gonna let you finish, but we got a job to do."

" ** _Shut up._** " Alice and Francis growled.

Isabelle's room was so...pale.

It had tan carpet, white furniture and pale blush bedding and wallpaper. At least, that's what Alice imagined it was like before... Before the blood.

Isabelle's body lay on her bed, naked and... gutted. Her organs were tossed about everywhere in the room. The liver on the nightstand, the kidneys on the window seal, the intestines draped on the ceiling fan, the lungs shredded in pieces and scattered across the carpet. The walls were smeared with bloody hand-prints, a struggle.

"Francis..." She choked out, but managed to keep her voice steady. "Gloves." Wordlessly, he handed her the gloves.

Alice slipped them on and moved closer to Isabelle's body. Green eyes, frozen in terror, blonde hair drenched in her own blood. The letter 'I' had been carved by a knife into her forehead. "May your soul rest in peace." Alice closed the girl's eyelids with a silent promise...A promise to avenge her. To bring her and her family justice.

Just like her father had always done. He always kept his promises.

Except for one.

Alice's eyes trailed down to her stomach. Only one thing lied inside: a disconnected heart with a knife stabbed in the middle. She nearly gasped. She'd seen that knife insignia before. If **_He_** was involved, this could get a lot more dangerous than it already was. She needed to make a call. Alice's hand reached down and tugged out the knife. "I need a bag,"

Francis rushed over, his face paler than ever.

Alice frowned. This wasn't unusual, per se. Everyone hated being this close to death. It made you reevaluate everything. Your life, your choices, your family, everything. Suddenly, death wasn't just something that happened to other people. It happened to everyone. It would happen to you, too.

She slipped the knife into the bag. "Francis," Alice took another look at the pale Frenchman. "I want you to go back to the office and do some research on the Blackwater family. All right?"

He nodded mutely before fleeing the room.

Alfred sighed. "Poor guy."

"We were the same way, Al." Alice started to search through the drawers. Looking for anything, a diary, a note, a picture, anything. "Remember?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah," he paused for a minute. "Are you going to be okay here by yourself? I need to go speak to Isabelle's friend and her grandma."

"Al, I'm fine." Alice snorted, looking up at him finally. "This isn't my first case."

"This one's different. I can tell." Alfred said. "You freaked out when you saw the knife earlier. What is it?"

Alice couldn't tell him. She trusted Alfred, of course she did. She just didn't trust what **_He_** would do if he found out about her breaking her promise. "I've seen the insignia before. One of my dad's cases." That wasn't a lie. Her father didn't have a wonderful relationship with **_His_** father and her father had been fairly familiar with **_His_** father's...antics.

Alfred gave her one last look. "See ya at the office." He left. Alfred knew that she hadn't told him the whole truth. That was okay, he'd forgive her soon enough. He always did.

Alice sighed, looking at the bag in her hands again. "What the fuck did this girl get herself into?"

XXX

Alfred met them up later in Alice's office.

"Yo, dude! Dudette!" He grinned at them, probably sensing that they were in the dire need of an icebreaker.

"What do you have, Al?" Alice spared the American a wary glance.

"Well, one: Isabelle's grandma is bat-shit crazy, 'kay?" Alfred whined, "Two: I got some ideas on who the killer might be."

Alice's head shot up. "Who?"

"Isabelle's fiancé and her two friends." Alfred sunk into Alice's chair. "Her friend, Amanda Clyde was the last one to see Isabelle alive-"

"Unlikely." Alice interrupted. "There was fifteen other people in the house, and how easy do you think it is to kill someone with fifteen other people in the house? Or to do the job and not get a speck of blood on you?"

She decided not to go any further after seeing Francis' expression. She didn't need any vomit on her carpet.

"Right," Alfred shrugged. "Just keeping the options open. Next is her fiancé, Michael Phillips and her friend, Lilly Brentwood. They disappeared last night."

Alice straightened. "Now, that is interesting."

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, but I only know that Lilly sneaked away last night and Michael's friends said that they hadn't seen him since last week."

"Michael Clyde?" Alice's head shot up. "May Clyde's grandson? The spoiled one that we found skinny dipping in that near the museum fountain?"

"Same pale bastard." Alfred nodded.

Alice frowned. "I'll visit the Clyde mansion tomorrow."

"Valerie Blackwater called," Francis re-entered the office. The two hadn't even noticed him leaving. "She'll meet you tomorrow, 11am at ze _Trèfle Café_."

Alice nodded. "Got it." She glanced down at her watch. "You two should head home, it's getting late."

"What about you?" Francis asked.

"I'm going to stay behind a bit." Alice said, "I'm going to spend some time in the lab and look at the evidence. Oh, and Francis?"

" _Oui?_ "

"Don't come in for work tomorrow." She said, "Take the day off. You're in no shape to work."

Francis smiled at Alice, grateful. " _Oui_ , I'll do zat. _Merci_ , v _otre Majesté_."

 **Translations:**

 _Oui_ = Yes

 _Merci, pour préoccupante, votre Majesté_ = Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty

 _Votre Majesté_ = Your Majesty __

 _Trèfle Café_ = Clover Café

 _Merci, votre Majesté_ = Thank you, Your Majesty _  
_


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Alice was no stranger to stuck-up rich people.

Really, everyone was rich compared to what she grew up in. Five children and only one parent that was nearly always working to pay for them wasn't that great of a childhood.

Her brothers, sister, father and her all grew up in one little apartment. The twins, Wilma and Patrick (AN: The Ireland twins) shared a room, Dylan (AN: Wales) and Alistair (AN: Scotland) shared theirs. Alice herself got lucky and landed with their father (AN: Papa Celt), though it was mainly because she had been such a sickly child and had nightmares more than the others.

And here Mrs. May Clyde was glaring across from her, trying to make her feel like she was unworthy of even breathing.

Papa had said that she'd meet people like that, no matter where she went. Alice steeled herself, remembering what her father used to say to her as a child. "Good evening, Mrs. Clyde." Alice kept her chin high and her back straight and her face neutral. Nothing was more infuriating than trying to talk to a blank wall.

Mrs. Clyde hummed, her gnarly hands brushing the back of her purebred poodle (Though, really, no dog could ever be pure if they all came from wolves so Alice didn't really see the point in making sure it was "pure").

"Ma'am, do you know why I am here?" Alice asked, ignoring the hungry slobber that dripped from the poodle's jaw as it stared at her.

Mrs. Clyde sniffed, "That... **_stupid_** boy." She paused, "Got himself into trouble, didn't he? Always knew he was a bad apple. I tried to tell John. I tried."

John Clyde, May Clyde's son and Michael's father. "I see, and," Alice paused, wondering how she should phrase her next question. "I understand you were the last one to see him? Michael, I mean."

Mrs. Clyde sniffed again. "Yes," She drawled. "Tell me, what has that idiot done to himself, now?"

"Well, we'd just like to ask him some questions about Isabelle Blackwater." Alice watched the old woman in front of her.

"Ah, yes." Recognition flashed in her pale grey eyes. "Lovely girl, she was. I set up the marriage myself. But that moronic brat ruined everything."

Alice's ears perked up. _There we go, now the little box of secrets is opening._ "What do you mean? Did they break off the engagement?" Mrs. Clyde caught herself from saying anything. _Oh, we have a dirty secret coming, don't we?_

"Mrs. Clyde, what did you mean?" Alice asked, watching how May's hands trembled.

"Nothing. Nothing." She tried to wave Alice off. "They were so young; I imagine that it was too early to set up an engagement."

"No, Mrs. Clyde, you said something." Alice pressed. "What did Michael do? How did he ruin the engagement?"

" ** _Nothing._** " Mrs. Clyde hissed.

"Mrs. Clyde," Alice's voice hardened. "You need to tell me. It's very important."

Her eyes widened. "I've seen you before."

"Don't change the subject, ma'am." Alice ignored her comment. "Where is Michael? What did he do?"

"No, I've seen those eyes before." Mrs. Clyde's eyes narrowed. "What's your name?"

Alice gave in. "Detective Kirkland, now can you please-"

"Kirkland." May interrupted her. "Your father. His name was Fergus Kirkland, wasn't it?"

Her pale grey eyes softened.

"He and John used to play together. Your father would sneak in through the windows and trail mud wherever he went. And he had the most butchered accent that I ever heard. But he played the violin more beautifully than any other in Britain."

Alice allowed a small, half-hearted smirk. "He had a thing for poetry, too."

"But violent, as well." Mrs. Clyde chuckled, her face turning years younger. "What happened?" Her smile dropped, "What happened to my baby grandson?"

B _ipolar, much?_ "Last night," Alice started. "Isabelle Blackwater was found in her bedroom...dead, ma'am."

"Oh, Lord." Her pale face turned paper white. "Oh, Lord, have mercy." Her face shot up to meet Alice's gaze. "He didn't do it! He wouldn't, he loved her! He just made a mistake, oh, Lord!"

"Ma'am, we're not sure that's he's the killer. He's just a suspect." Alice told her, "Please, where is he?"

"...V-V-Venice." May stuttered. "He's in Venice with that Brentwood girl. He eloped with her two weeks ago, but he-he didn't say why, b-but-"

Alice didn't hear the rest.

In Venice with Lilly Brentwood? That explained where they went, but left more questions than answers. Alice managed to get an address out of a sobbing Mrs. Clyde, but she was in no state to tell Alice anything else. Now all she had to do was wait for Valerie Blackwater to show up at the cafe.

XXX

"Ya Alice Kirkland?"

She turned. A girl covered in grease and oils stared down at her. Her blonde hair looked like had been cut by a blind woodcutter and her green eyes were hidden behind the lenses of her goggles. Almost. "Valerie Blackwater?" God, she looked just like her sister.

Valerie nodded and fell into her chain, a scowl permanently written on her face. "Wha am I here fo'?" She asked, "Y'know, I 'ave a ship ta run,"

Alice frowned. "Did Alfred not tell you?" She watched Valerie's expression. Fuck. "Ma'am, I think we should talk about this outside."

"Wha?" Valerie frowned. "Why?"

"Valerie," Alice leaned in, her voice low. They didn't need to start a ruckus. "Just trust me, the things I'm about to say aren't the things that should be said here." Valerie stared at her a bit before nodding. She and Alice left the cafe and headed to the small park just some ways from the cafe. Silence. Complete undisturbed silence.

What was Alice supposed to say?

'Oh, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this' blah, blah, blah. That line was so overdone and overused that it ought to have been overthrown from all speech and writing.

"She's dead, ain' she?" Valerie stopped and turned to look at Alice. "Izzy...She dead, ain she?"

...Alice nodded.

No bawling, no wailing, no cursing at the world, no questions. Just a sharp intake of breath. "I hated her." The venom in her voice sizzled through Alice. "I hated how papa loved her more. **I hated how perfect and sweet and kind and beautiful she was!** **_I hated her! I HATE HER!_** " Valerie's tears came out in large blobs that streaked the oil on her face. She let out a painful wail, clutching herself tightly.

Alice's chest hurt.

" ** _Get that bastard!_** " Valerie hissed at her, her eyes filled with a murderous inferno. " ** _Make that fucking bastard pay!_** "

XXX

" _Oui?_ "

"Francis," Alice said into the phone. She was back at the office, her heart still aching. "How are you holding up?"

Francis felt his body explode with spasms of happiness. "O-oh, just fine now, _merci_."

"Good, good." Alice tried to keep her voice level. Damn it. "Are you up for a trip to Venice?"

" _Q-Q-Quoi?_ "

"I got Michael's grandma to talk. She said he's in Venice with Lilly." Alice explained. "And I got us a free ride,"

"Oh..." Francis felt his body deflate into disappointment.

"If you don't want to go, it's fine." Alice rushed, "I'll just ask Alfred to-"

" _N-non, non!_ " Francis flushed. Smooth. Real smooth. "I'll come, I just need to call Matthew's babysitter. How long would we be gone?"

"Not long. A week at most," Alice said. "And we're leaving tomorrow, 5:30am. So meet me at the office at 5, all right?"

" _Oui_ , I can do that." Francis internally groaned. He'd even sacrifice his precious beauty sleep for love. Ah, Alice was such a lucky woman to have him under her thumb. Even if she didn't know it.

"Good night, Frog." After she hung up, Alice waited in her office. She had made sure that everyone had left for work already. All she needed to do was make a phone call. Her fingers trembled over the keys.

Should she call **_Him_**?

There was no doubt that **_He_** was involved in this somehow, but she hadn't seen **_Him_** in several years. Would **_He_** still consider her a friend or had she just faded of into his memories? Would **_He_** even help her was the real question.

She dialed the number.

…

…

…

…

 ** _He_** answered.

 **Translations:**

 _Oui_ = Yes

 _Merci_ = Thanks

 _Quoi_ = What

 _Non_ = No


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

" _Mon chérie_ , come on! Isn't it beautiful?"

Venice was beautiful, Alice agreed. But she also agreed that the amount of tourist there was too damn high! "Yes, yes, Frog." Alice rolled her eyes, "You can explore later after we check in to the hotel."

"But-"

"Shut up, Bonnefoy."

" _Oui, votre Majesté._ "

"Stop calling me that." Alice snapped, storming off to the hotel. Her face was flushed cherry-red.

Francis smiled, " _Oui, votre Majesté!_ "

XXX

" _Cosa vuol dire c'è una sola?_ " Alice hissed at the desk-lady.

"Alice?" Francis frowned, "Alice what's going on?" He couldn't speak Italian, but he had a good guess that whatever was going on between the two, wasn't good for Alice and him.

Alice ignored him, " _Ho pagato per due camere!_ "

The desk-lady shrugged, " _Noi non abbiamo più camere, signora. Dovete condividere l' uno con il vostro marito._ " Alice's face burned scarlet. " _Capisco. Questi sono tempi duri per voi due, e non si vuole essere ovunque vicino lui-_ "

" _Non è mio marito. E 'il mio collega._ " Alice cut her off, face still red.

"Alice, what is she saying?"

Francis was ignored again. Alice sighed. " _Bene, bene._ "

" _Meraviglioso!_ " The woman smiled, " _Avrai un assegno di rimborso inviata a casa tua in una settimana, signora. Ecco la chiave della camera._ "

Alice huffed and took the key from the woman. "Come on, Frog."

Their hotel room was beautiful, Francis thought. Or maybe he had spent too much time around the middle-to-lower class to tell whether it was good quality or not. The room had one bed, full-size if he had to guess, a loveseat, a partial kitchen, a coffee table, radio, two lamps and lean carpet and a nice bathroom. The whole thing was a splash of coral, gold and tan.

" _Dieu merci,_ " Francis sighed happily, collapsing onto the bed. Alice rolled her eyes. She plunked her suitcase in the corner. "So, where is my room, _mon chérie_?"

Alice froze, and then her face flushed. She didn't meet his indigo eyes. "Here."

"Oh, zen where will you sleep?" Francis asked. Alice couldn't help but find that confused face adora-no, no, no! Alice shook her head slightly. **_Annoying. She meant annoying._**

"...Here..." Alice winced at how meek her voice sounded. "The hotel made a mistake, so we have to share the room."

There was silence...And then, "Ohonhonhonhonhon~!"

" ** _Shut up!_** " Alice gave him a swift kick in his shin, but the atmosphere had lightened. "It's just for a few nights, anyways."

" _Oui, oui._ " Francis smiled at her. "Lunch, zen?" He grabbed her wrist and took off before she could even protest.

XXX

"It's beautiful, _non_?" Francis asked Alice, watching her face.

Her gleaming green eyes peered behind thick blonde eyelashes and into the river outside. Her pale ash blonde hair was pulled into a low ponytail that draped over her shoulder. He couldn't stop staring at her plump, pouty lips.

Alice didn't look at him. "It is. It still looks like it did seven years ago, just busier."

"You've been here before?" Francis asked, surprised. She hummed. A yes. "What for?" Francis leaned in.

Her eye's glazed over and darkened a bit. "I... I was just visiting with some friends." Francis hid a wince. A bad memory, he guessed.

"What about you?" She tore her gaze from the outside. "You never told me why you came to London." She already knew, though, really.

Francis grimaced slightly. "...I was banished from Paris by the head of ze Bonnefoy family, my great aunt." He caught Alice's look and sighed. " _Oui, oui_. I was an imbecile. I partied, drank, wooed several women and men-"

"Okay, I get the point." Alice stopped him. "I get it. You were a party animal."

Francis snorted at her choice of words. "But a handsome party animal." he grinned at her before continuing. "And zen...And zen I met a woman zat changed my life."

"Mathew's mother?" Alice guessed.

" _Oui_ ," Francis' smile never left his face. "Her name was Jeanne. She was beautiful. Ze most beautiful woman in all of France...But she wasn't rich, non, she was born to a poor family zat owned a bakery a little way from my Fazer's estate."

He paused for a minute. "After Matthew was born, we had to stop seeing each ozer so openly. I had sneak over to ze bakery when it was dark to see zem."

Alice frowned. "Because she wasn't rich?"

Francis nodded. "My great aunt would 'ave never allowed it. And besides, Mathew was born out of wedlock, so zat itself was a disgrace to my family." He took a deep breath. "But eventually she found out. I came home one day and ze bakery was in flames. I managed to rescue Matthew, but...Jeanne and her parents didn't make it. Zey ruled it out as an accident, but I know zat my great aunt did it. She stripped me of my title and disowned me 'until I do something worthy with myself'."

Alice looked at his tear glossed, indigo blue eyes. "... _Je suis tellement désolé pour votre perte,_ "

Francis blinked. Did she just? " _Q-Quoi?_ " The Englishwoman huffed at him and avoided his eyes. " _Vous pouvez parler français?_ "

"Don't get used to it, Frog." She glared at him, but out of embarrassment. "And I only know a little from the time I lived in France."

"You lived in France?" Francis' eyebrow raised. "You never told me zat."

Alice blushed. "I played there for a year and a half. Mainly in Paris and Bordeaux. And once or twice in Calais." She caught Francis' look. "I was the concertmaster in an orchestra that played at a bunch of aristocrat parties. One time we played for the Russian emperor, actually."

"Zat's amazing!" Francis gaped at her. "How come you never told me about zat?"

Alice shrugged, glancing back outside. "I just never thought about it."

 **Translations:**

 _Mon chérie_ = My dear

 _Oui, votre Majesté_ = Yes, Your Majesty

 _Cosa vuol dire c'è una sola?_ = What does it mean there is only one?

 _Ho pagato per due camere!_ = I paid for two rooms!

 _Noi non abbiamo più camere, signora. Dovrete condividere l' uno con il vostro marito._ = We have no more rooms, ma'am. You have to share one with your husband.

 _Capisco. Questi sono tempi duri per voi due, e non si vuole essere ovunque vicino lui –_ = I see. These are hard times for the two of you, and you do not want to be anywhere near him –

 _Non è mio marito. E 'il mio collega._ = He's not my husband. He's my coworker.

 _Bene, bene._ = Fine, fine.

 _Meraviglioso!_ = Marvelous!

 _Avrai un assegno di rimborso inviata a casa tua in una settimana, signora. Ecco la chiave della camera._ = You'll get a refund check sent to your home in a week, ma'am. Here's your room key.

 _Dieu merci._ = Thank God.

 _Oui, Oui._ = Yes, yes.

 _Non?_ = No?

 _...Je suis tellement désolé pour votre perte._ = ... I'm so sorry for your loss.

 _Vous pouvez parler français?_ = You can speak French?


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

"Is zis ze place?"

Alice huffed at her assistant. "Of course it is, Frog." She paused, just about to ring the doorbell. "And no flirting."

" _Quoi?_ " Francis smirked at her. "Jealous, _ma reine_?"

"Of course not!" Alice hissed at him, her face lava red. "I just don't want to be the one to drag your bloody ass out of jail because you sexually harassed someone again."

"One time!" Francis' face was red now, too. "And I was drunk."

"Just don't do it again," Alice rang the doorbell.

"Coming!" A muffled voice called, scrambling inside the apartment. " _I-In u-un...momento!_ "

Alice's face scrunched up. "His Italian is horrible."

The door opened, revealing a tall man. He was lanky, with ginger hair and bright freckles and soft, pastel grey eyes. " _Sì?_ "

"Michael Clyde?" Alice flipped open her badge. "Detective Kirkland. I need to speak to you and Ms. Brentwood."

"O-oh, er, yes." Michael stuttered. "Do come in," He led them into the apartment. Black silk curtains clashed with the turquoise walls and white furniture. "Um, tea? Coffee?"

Alice shook her head. "No, thank you."

"Mike, what's-!" A shriek pierced the air. They turned. A girl about twenty stood in the hallway. She had dark chocolate hair and copper-tanned skin. And she was...naked.

Francis couldn't help himself...he winked. " _Bonjour~!_ "

XXX

Mike sat across from them, his soft grey eyes turned into a steely glare. Probably trying to evaporate Francis with his eyes. Lilly clung onto him, her face still bright red in shame and buried in his shoulder. "What do you people want?" Michael hissed at them.

Alice tried not to groan. God damn the bloody frog. "You two were friends with Ms. Isabelle Blackwater, correct?" Lilly gives a hesitant nod, but Mike freezes. "Good. I'd like to ask you a few questions. Is that all right with you."

It wasn't a question.

Lilly and Mike nod, glancing at each other occasionally. Alice reaches back and fiddles with her recorder that was disguised as a pocket watch. "Why did you leave London without telling anyone?" Alice asked.

Mike looked startled. "W-we just thought it would be nice, a change of scenery w-would be nice, right?" He glanced at Lilly. "A-and we just didn't tell anyone because we were in such a hurry-"

Alice cut him off with a dark glare. She fiddled with the pocket watch again. Pause. "Cut the bullshit, Michael." She kept her glare steady, ignoring the snickers of the frog. "You'd better start telling the truth, because I don't give two shits about whatever the bloody fuck your family is fighting about, but you might want to start talking."

"What are you-"

Alice cut him off. "I'm a homicide detective and you two are my prime suspects." She watched their faces morph into pure terror. Well, that ought to do it. She fiddled with the pocket watch again. "So, can you two tell me where you were Tuesday night?"

Francis smirked as her voice went from piss-in-your-pants worthy to like a melodic siren.

"The _Bella Venezia_!" Lilly squeaked. "I-I have the tickets still!" She rushed off to their room and was back in an instant. "H-H-Here,"

Alice pulled a pair of emergency gloves from her pocket. You never knew what would happen when you were a homicide detective. She grabbed the two tickets. "Your captain's name was Charlie Baker?" Alice double checked. Michael nodded.

"You know him?" Francis asked, eyebrow raised.

"Sort of. I have a friend who knows Baker." She paused, "Can I borrow a plastic bag?" Lilly nodded and rushed to the kitchen and brought back a plastic bag. Alice placed the tickets inside.

"Now," She looked back at Lilly and Michael. "Why did you leave England?"

The two glanced at each other. "My mother, she..." Lilly exhaled. "She-She disowned me b-b-because of the baby." Her thumb absently swirled little patterns on her stomach.

" _Q-Quoi?_ " Francis asked, " _F-Félicitations, mon chéri._ "

Michael gave Francis a glare, but Lilly didn't notice. "Michael and I, w-we were at a party and we were just s-so **_stupid_** and..." Lilly took a shuddering breath, "She told me to leave. That she never wanted to see or hear of me ever again. I was a disgrace and she wanted nothing to do with me."

"Isabelle broke the engagement off between us when she found out," Michael said, "And I followed Lilly to Venice, because," He glances at Lilly's stomach. "It's my responsibility, as well."

" _Aw, comment douce!_ " Francis cooed.

Alice rolled her eyes, "Bloody rich people." She muttered under her breath. Was wealth and reputation really so important that someone could toss away family so freely? No matter how stupid and irritating her brothers and sister could be, she wouldn't trade one of them for all the bloody gold in the world. Ever.

Hell, she gave up nearly everything for them.

She tossed away her dream of becoming a world-famous violinist, she kept their parent's' darkest secrets from them, and she was always working overtime to support them.

Wealth could never replace her siblings.

After all, money didn't get into fights at pubs or drink all the bloody alcohol in the world, did it?

"...Do you two," Alice paused, wondering how she was going to say it. "Do you two know of anyone that may have disliked or was very close to Isabelle?"

"Why?" Michael asked.

Alice sighed. "Ms. Blackwater was found in her room, dead, Wednesday morning."

Lilly shrieked, her hand flying up to her mouth. "No!" All the blood that was in Michael's pale face fled. "NO!" Lilly began to rock herself back in forth, but her husband was frozen in his spot.

They stayed like that for at least two hours, with Lilly rocking herself hysterically and Alice trying to comfort her, and Michael non-stop pacing.

XXX

"Well, what do you zink?"

Alice looked at Francis. "I don't think they did it."

Francis tried not to groan. "I meant ze restaurant."

After things had settled down at the apartment, Francis had to drag Alice out of the hotel room again so that she didn't work herself to the bones (And also because he wanted another excuse to take her out on a date). He brought her to a nice restaurant that wouldn't rob him of whatever little money he had in his allowance, but still was nice enough to consider as a 'date'.

Not that Alice ever would.

"O-Oh," Alice stuttered, flustered. "It's beautiful."

Francis smiled. Score! "And ze food?" That was the ultimate test, really. He'd learned early on that with Alice, practicality mattered more to her than anything. She never wore anything lavish, and though that was probably because of financial reasons, Francis couldn't help but think that she wouldn't do it even if she had the money.

Alice's blush deepened. "It's good," And then she mumbled, looking away from her partner... _But it's not as good as yours..._

" _Quoi?_ " Francis didn't hear the second part.

"Nothing." Alice huffed, not looking at him, and instead focusing her attention on her food. "I didn't say anything."

Francis chuckled at her, enjoying the silence for a minute before he spoke. "What was it like? When you played in ze orchestra?"

He watched her eyes gloss over slightly. They twinkled. "It was wonderful." Was all she said for a minute. "I got to see and play across the world, spreading my music to thousands of people. That was the best part of my life, I think."

"Why did you come back, zen?"

Alice's eyes dimmed a bit. "...My brother, Dylan (AN: Wales)-he's the second oldest-was on a business trip in North America when he got into an automobile accident. The company fired him since he can't use his legs anymore...They're paralyzed, now. And since he was the one who was supporting the family, I had to come back home and help." She paused again. "It also helps that I was fighting with our conductor."

"What about?" Francis watched her expression.

"He...He was my fiancé," Alice seemed to deflate a little. "And I, uh, well, on my wedding day...He decided not to show up. And, when we went looking for him, I found him having sex with our soprano."

"Oh."

Alice smirked and turned to look at him. "Yeah, but I think I said something a little stronger than that."

Francis laughed lightly. "I bet you did." He continued, "So what did you do?"

She snorted. "First I kicked their asses out of my hotel room...completely naked." She smirked at that, "And then I broke it off with him. He kept asking for forgiveness, but eventually I left because of Dylan's accident. Haven't heard from him since."

"Do you miss him?"

"...No." Alice's eyes met his. "Not anymore, at least."

Francis was on fire. He was sure of it. Was she? "Alice..." He didn't even notice that they were leaning in until- ** _RING! RING! RING!_**

Alice shot back, her face startled and red. Adorable. "Hello?" She asked into her phone.

"Yo, dude, you need to get your ass back to London."

"Alfred?" Alice stood, "Alfred, what's wrong?"

"We got another case," Alfred sounded rushed and worried. "Same death type, same kind of knife. We think it's the same guy."

" ** _Fuck._** " Alice cursed. "I'll be over as soon as I can, but I don't think flights will be ready until morning."

"Got it," Alfred groaned. "Just try to get over here as fast as you can, 'kay?"

"Yeah, see you." She hung up. "Francis, get to the hotel and pack our things when you're done eating. I'll meet you there."

"Wait, where are you-!" Francis called, but Alice had already run out of the restaurant.

 **Translations:**

 _Quoi?_ = What?

 _Ma Reine_ = My Queen.

 _In un momento_ = One moment.

 _Sì_ = Yes.

 _Bonjour_ = Hello.

 _Bella Venezia_ = Beautiful Venice.

 _Félicitations, mon chéri_ = Congratulations, My Dear.

 _Aw, comment douce!_ = Aw, how sweet!


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Shit.

Alice felt her stomach drop to the sea as she approached the island. Poveglia. Rough waters hurled themselves against her small fishing boat, tossing her from side to side (Borrowed, not stolen. She was planning on giving it back). Dark swirling clouds surrounded the tiny island, giving off a dangerous aura. The hairs on her body prickled.

Alice had witch blood in her.

It wasn't a particularly strong connection. She couldn't see the dead or get visions in the middle of the night or use charms. It would have been bloody useful in her career, but _noooo_ , ever since she was a little girl, she could remember catching flashes of things. Sometimes humans, sometimes dragons, and even flying green bunnies.

One day, her school principal found out about her "imagination" and called her father and her siblings to the office for a meeting. The principal had suggested that either she get a therapist, or they put Alice in a mental institution in Siberia.

That's when her father punched out three of his teeth.

Her father would never leave any of his children. Any of his wife's children. But they didn't have money for medication, so Alice continued to see things and just got better at keeping them to herself. Her family seemed to think that she had grown out of her "seeing imaginary friends" stage as her siblings had, but she still could see them.

Alice bristled as her foot sunk into the soil of Poveglia. The soil of ashes and blood and bones.

Everything rushed in like a tidal wave. Poveglia was different. She walked past the murderous doctors that wore bird masks, ignoring their blood-red eyes as they followed her. Screams sizzled through the air. Anybody and everybody suspected to have the Black Plague in Italy died here. Decapitated warriors growled and knocked their bones at her, armor chipped and stained with blood.

Demons grinned at her with gleaming eyes. _My, what dark secrets you have._ They seemed to say, _Come and tell us won't you? We'll help you forget everything... Every little dark secret, every little bit of pain you've ever know._

Alice brushed past them, chanting a stupid nursery rhyme.

She brushed her way past the poison ivy and to the entrance of the asylum. "Damn it," Alice cursed, feeling the nausea that the building emitted. **_He_** just had to pick this place. "Bloody bastard." She braced herself and entered the building.

Shit.

Blood everywhere. It was worse than Isabelle's murder. Blood rained from the ceiling and organs, arms and legs tossed around. The stairs were made of skeletons. Children's skeletons. "Fuck." Alice hesitantly started up the stairs. Knowing **_Him_** , he'd chosen the hardest place to reach on the island: the bell tower.

Alice felt her skin crawl and the raining blood soaked her. It was still warm.

At the top of the stairs was a hallway. Chains rattled, and patients scream and cried bloody murder, their organs pouring out of their eyes as Alice passed. She walked across broken doors and stuffed dolls. Suddenly, the nursery rhyme didn't seem too effective.

"Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts." She repeated, her heart beating five times then it normally would. _But what the hell could ever be happy in a place like this?_ She thought, jumping out of her skin when a little boy peeked his head out of a doorway.

" _MaMMa_?" It asked, voice changing pitches from high to low to multiple and then back to normal. " _DoV'è IL miO moMma_?"

Where, indeed.

Alice turned her back on the little boy, her hairs prickling. She tried not to notice the fact that he looked just like her big brother, Patrick (AN: North Ireland) when he was a child. And she knew that Patrick's eyes weren't pure black.

The black eyed children.

Demons that traveled in packs, usually in the form of siblings. But if he said 'mother', then maybe he meant-! Alice screamed as a teenage girl lashed out at her, clawing and gnashing her teeth at Alice. " _È CaGnA! L'hAI uCCisO! L'hAi UCciso! HAI ucciso MIA maDRe!_ "

 _Black eyes._ Alice jumped back, pulling out her gun on instinct, gears whirring and read to shoot. _The other one._

" _È CaGnA! L'hAI uCCisO! L'hAi UCciso! HAI ucciso MIA maDRe!_ " The demon that looked like Patrick and the teenage girl that looked a lot like Patrick's twin sister, Wilma (AN: The Republic of Ireland).

She put away the gun, knowing it would have no effect on the two demons unless the bullets were soaked in holy water or some herb mixture. _Don't pay attention to them_ , Alice remembered, _they dig out your darkest secrets and play with you. Don't let them._ She pulled out a small vile of holy water from her coat. You never knew when you needed one.

" ** _Tu non sei mia figlia._** "

Alice froze. She didn't dare turn around. She knew what she would see. A shape-shifter demon could make an exact replica of people, as long as they were dead first and the memory was strong. Alice couldn't bear to see her father. Not like this.

"You're not real." Alice straightened her back. "You're not real. Because you-" She pointed to the shape-shifter without looking, "-are dead. And you two-" She looked at little Patrick and teenage Wilma. "-are a memory."

Alice repeated that in her head, strolling past the three.

They might follow her. They didn't get much prey, with the island being abandoned and the horror stories surrounding the island. Alice couldn't hear them. Of course she couldn't hear them, they didn't have physical properties. Or shadows. Alice clutched the vile of water, knowing that if she turned around for one second, one tiny moment of weakness, her soul would be eaten.

Alice reached another set of stairs after thirty minutes or so. This one was made out of blood dripped organs. "The things I do for my paycheck," Alice growled bitterly and walked up the swirling stairs, ignoring the fact that that she was completely drenched in blood. The squelching noise that the organs made as she went, echoed in her ears.

She reached the bell tower entrance, pissed and blood soaked and scared. "Oi, fucktard." Alice saw **_him_** sitting peacefully in his chair. Not drenched, not scared, and drinking tea. Fucking tea.

Lovino Bloody Fucking Vargas, Mafia boss of Italy.

"About damn time you showed up, _ragazza_." He smirked, amber eyes gleaming with a dark look. "You look like shit."

 **Translations:**

 _Mamma_ = Mom.

 _Dov'è il mio Momma_ = Where's my Mama?

 _È cagna! L'hai ucciso! L'hAi ucciso! HAI ucciso mia madre!_ = You bitch! You killed her! You killed her! YOU killed my mother!

 _Tu non sei mia figlia_ = You're not my daughter.

 _Ragazza_ = Girl. 


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Alice raised an eyebrow. "You certainly know how to make a woman swoon." Her voice only shook a little. "And behind me?"

"The whole bell tower is-a soaked in-a holy water, _ragazza_. They won't-a get you-a in-a here."

Alice tried not to look excited as she passed through the doorway and felt an enormous weight lift from her body. "You picked one hell of a spot," Alice sunk into the chair across from him.

" _Sì_." Lovino smirked at her. He was wearing a pressed, expensive suit, as usual. He may have been a mass murderer, but at least he did it in style. "Did you enjoy it, witch?"

Alice only glared at him. Cocky bastard. "How's your brother?" She'd met Feliciano and Ludwig when she had played for some rich aristocrats in Sicily. A shooting broke out in the town, a Mafia gunfight. Alice didn't know that Feliciano and Ludwig were part of the Mafia and ended up saving them, taking a few bullets for them.

Lovino's face turned sour. "That idiota is getting married to-a that potato bastardo."

"Tell them they have my _complimenti_ ," Alice smirked a little, knowing how much Lovino hated his brother's German boyfriend. "And you have my _condoglianze_."

" _Sì, Sì_." Lovino waved her off, growling slightly.

Alice saw a ring glint on his finger. A giant diamond that she was pretty sure that not even Lovino could afford. It looked like a wedding ring, and it certainly would explain the recent spike in bank robbing all over Europe. "When did that happen?"

"Last month," Lovino shrugged. " _Mio fratello_ wanted us to get married together, but I said no way in hell. Turns out-the Pope is a fairly-a reasonable man-a... When faced with a gun."

Alice raised an eyebrow. "And your husband didn't care?" Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, a sky pirate well-known throughout all of Europe.

Or, as Alice liked to call him, Captain Dickweed.

They met when Alice had still been traveling with her orchestra and they were playing for the king and queen of Scandinavia. There had been a ball going on and the Spanish idiot crashed in with his bloody pirates and ruined the damn thing. Needless to say, she didn't get her paycheck.

And for some reason, cruel Fate made sure they met time and time again, until Alice had left the orchestra. She wasn't unfamiliar with going into battle with him, using either sword or gun or even a chicken leg.

"No," Lovino shrugged. "The damn-a bastardo was-a just-a happy to get hitched. Cried tears-a of joy and-a everything."

"I would've loved to see that, Mr. Carriedo." Alice snorted, imagining Antonio crying like a baby.

Lovino scowled at her. "What makes you think I took-a his name-a, _ragazza idiota_?"

She shrugged, hiding a sly grin. "Just a guess."

The Mafia boss huffed, "What the-a crapolla did you-a call me-a for, anyway-a?"

"This." Alice reached into her bag, "It was found in Isabelle Blackwater's room." She didn't need to say anymore. Lovino had been keeping tabs on her ever since they had met and he knew what she did for a living.

" _Che cazzo?!_ " Lovino hissed, anger twisting his face. "I'm-a gonna kill that-a bastardo when I find him."

"You know who it is?"

Lovino shook his head, still seething. "But when I do, _ragazza_ -" He stopped for a moment, counting to ten. His honey-amber eyes glared up at her and his grin was feral. "I'll-a make him pay. **_Dearly._** "

Alice knew what the dagger could have done to Lovino and his Mafia.

If it had been in the hands of the wrong detective, tracing the dagger's connection to Feliciano would have been easy. Feliciano was marked in the International Criminal Library. He'd been caught years ago in Africa and once they'd figured out that he was part of the Vargas family, he'd been marked with a tracker chip.

Lovino stormed through the entire continent to find his brother.

But the chip was irremovable.

If they tried to remove it, it would self-destruct and kill Feliciano. The younger Vargas twin had been captured with one of those knives (They were part of a grand set that was reserved for only Lovino's most trusted peoples) and they could easily activate the self-destruct option in the chip once they found out. The reason why Feliciano wasn't dead yet was because Lovino had scoured the Earth and destroyed every one of the controllers that could set off the chip in Feliciano.

However, a new one could easily be made and then that would be the end of the sweet, oblivious Italian.

"Here," Alice gave him the pictures of Michael and Lilly. "These two were the prime suspects, but..."

"No." Lovino barely glanced at the pictures. "These aren't my-a mine."

"Are you sure?"

"I never forget a face, Alice." His eyes settled on hers. He was being completely serious.

Alice nodded, she didn't really think that Michael and Lilly were the killers, anyway. "I need a list of all the people in Britain with those kinds of knives."

" _Sì_ ," Lovino handed her the bagged knife and pictures again. " _Ho bisogno di una carta e penna._ " Alice gave him her pen and notepad. He scribbled on the paper, furiously.

" _Grazie_ , Lovino." Alice took the paper. "Kiku Honda, Elizaveta Hedervary, and Vash Zwingli?"

Lovino stood. "Kiku's a quiet guy with weird fan-girl tendencies, but he's one of the few people I would-a trust my-a _fratello idiota_. Lizzy's a lot like him, but I'd suggest not making her angry. And-a watch for her frying pan."

"Frying pan?" Alice frowned at him.

" _Sì_ ," Lovino's face paled. "She used to-a watch us when we were-a kids-a. I've seen what-a that-a thing can-a do."

"And Vash?" Alice asked.

" _Lui ha un bastone su per il culo,_ " Lovino snickered. "But he's-a one of-a my best-a gunmen. So, he-a doesn't like to use knives-a unless he-a has to. And-a you-a should-a visit the Fox and Goblin pub. The owner was a friend of my father. Kiku works there, too."

" _Grazie._ "

"Oh, and-a ragazza?" Lovino looked at her. "You-a have to-a wait until-a I leave. Unless-a you want to-a die." If she followed him, she'd know top-secret information that could get her killed.

Alice snorted. "Please, I've known about the Mafia since I was a child." Her father and Lovino's father, Romulus Vargas, used to go at each other. Endless fighting, her father locking up Mafia members, forcing her father do overtime. If you asked the people of Britain, Fergus Kirkland won. Because the amount of people that died, to the amount of people that were saved was pure brilliance.

If you asked his children, Romulus Vargas won.

Lovino didn't look at her. One of the things those two understood about each other: family. Lovino was the unloved, ignored child. The one that was constantly being compared to Feliciano. Nobody ever treated the two as equals except for a few (Mainly, his older brothers: Heracles and Gupta). Over time, he'd proved himself to be a great asset to the Mafia and by climbing through the ranks, he'd made himself the new Mafia boss and gained his father's praise before he passed away.

Alice had a slightly more complicated problem.

"We-a had-a some pretty-a messed up-a dad's, didn't we?" Lovino looked at her this time.

Alice glared, bright green eyes lit aflame. **"That bastard wasn't my father."**

Lovino didn't say anything for a while. "Your _fratelli_ and _sorella_ are fine."

"Yeah?" She knew Lovino had been watching her family. After she saved Feliciano and Ludwig, Lovino agreed to return the favor by keeping tabs on her family while she was travelling the world. Alice was too much of a coward to call them every once in a while. He was the reason she knew about Dylan's "accident" in the first place.

Lovino nodded. "Besides your-a stupid-a crossdressing brother getting into bar fights, and your-a sister getting hit on, they're-a fine."

Alice resisted slapping her forehead. "Seriously?"

"See you later, Witch." Lovino chuckled, but then his face turned serious again. She suppressed a shudder. Not in fear for her safety, but for what Lovino would do once he had his hands on the killer. "Watch your-a back. If the killer is one-a of those people, your-a in some deep shit, _ragazza_."

 **Translations:**

 _Ragazza_ = Girl.

 _Sì_ = Yes.

 _Idiota_ = Idiot.

 _Bastardo_ = Bastard.

 _Complimenti_ = Complements.

 _Condoglianze_ = Condolences.

 _Sì, Sì_ = Yes, yes.

 _Mio fratello_ = My brother.

 _Ragazza idiota_ = Idiot girl.

 _Che cazzo?!_ = The fuck?!

 _Ho bisogno di una carta e penna. =_ I need a pen and paper.

 _Fratello idiota_ = Idiot brother.

 _Lui ha un bastone su per il culo =_ He has a stick up his ass.

 _Fratelli_ = Brothers.

 _Sorella_ = Sister.


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

They spent the entire dirigible ride sitting in silence.

That was until Francis went off to flirt with some pretty girls to relieve some of his stress. Alice felt sick to her stomach, as if she were some silly school girl that had been cheated on by her boyfriend. She knew that wasn't true, though. They were colleagues, and nothing more.

The fact that he'd said nothing about the almost-kiss proved that.

 _But what if he just didn't want you to feel awkward?_ Alice felt a little voice in her head that sounded too much like her hamburger-stuffing, American best friend for her liking. _But even if he did_ -Alice huffed at the fact that she was arguing with imaginary voice- _it was unprofessional for colleagues to have a relationship_. Private life and work life would start to have an effect on each other and then things got messy. Not that it hadn't been done before, her parents were examples of that, but that was besides her point.

"Hey, little lady." A man came towards her.

She looked at him. _Grey and brown clothes, an oil splotch on his pants. Mechanical engineer. Twitchy left fingers, nervous disorder or childhood injury. Scarred lip and loppy eyes. Dark circles, he's stressed. The pay for an engineer is pretty good, so it's not his job. No mark of a wedding ring on his fingers, so he's not married._

"What's a pretty girl like you doin' all alone?" The man knocked her out of her thoughts. _He's lost one eye._ She watched the fake eye twitch every now and then.

"What's a mechanical engineer like you doing up here?" Alice raised an eyebrow at him.

The man looked surprised for a minute and then laughed at her. "He said you was hella smart." The man held a hand out to shake. "Can't tell ya ma name, miss. But, I can tell ya that it ain't my shift just yet."

She shook his hand, noticing a blaring sun tattoo on his wrist with the words ' _La Libertad Española_ '. Antonio's lackey, huh? "What the bloody hell does your boss want? I thought I was rid of the fucking bastard."

The man laughed again. "He said you'd say that." He was still grinning at her and leaned in, pretending to kiss her on the cheek. "Here you go, ma'am. Don't read it until you're alone." The man slipped a letter into Alice's coat pocket.

"What is it?"

"Can't tell ya, ma'am. I ain't got a clue." The man looked over at Francis and the women that surrounded him. "Your man?"

Alice shook her head. "My assistant."

"You like him, dontcha?" The man said again. "I can tell. I was around when they's met each other. Captain and Lord Vargas."

"Lord Vargas? That's a new one." Alice raised an eyebrow.

"We fellas on the ship like to tease him an' such." The man explained, chuckling a bit. "That a one get's to him the most. His face gets all red an' flustered. We fellas have knowns him since he was a wee lad."

Alice hummed. The image of a tiny Lovino ran around her head.

"Francis Bonnefoy, is his name, ain't it?"

Alice's head whipped to him. "Don't you dare-"

"Ha!" The cried triumphantly. "Ya do likes him."

 ** _God, this man's grammar was atrocious compared to even Alfred's._** "No. I don't." She was sure her face was pure red. Professional. Real professional, Kirkland.

"So ya loves him." The man said with so much conviction that Alice felt the need to slap him and throw him out of the damn dirigible.

"I don't." Alice hissed, trying to put her face back to a natural, indifferent position.

"Sure ya does," The man insisted. "Oops, looks likes he's a comin' this way. I better skedaddle. Nice meetin' ya, ma'am!"

"Wait-!" She called, signaling Francis to stop and return to the group of girls drooling after him. He hesitated and raised an eyebrow at her. Alice rolled her eyes and made a shooing motion. "I want to talk to you more."

The grease-covered man raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Well, at least he could pronounce that correctly. "I'm bored." Alice deadpanned. "Sit down, I'm guessing your shift isn't for a while. Considering you don't exactly work here." He winked at her sloppily and took a seat at an unoccupied table. She followed him.

"I assume you know my name." Alice said. She got a nod. "So, tell me why you're depressed."

"Miss?" He flinched slightly, hardly enough to notice. "I'm as fit as a fiddle!"

"That's not what your eyes say." She bit back, but not hard enough for him to get offended. "You haven't got much sleep."

"He said ya was a genius." The man rubbed his arm unconsciously.

"Antonio?" Alice asked, surprised. There was no way that indigenous dickweed would ever-

"'fraid not, miss." He tipped his head at her. "I be under the services of somebody else." And with that he left, disappearing into the crowd.


	9. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Francis decided to take the next day off, either to spend time with Matthew or to avoid his boss.

Alice didn't dwell on it. She had more important things to do than wonder if her colleague was upset with her. The second kill was another woman, but she was twenty something this time. Her apartment was covered in blood, her organs were in a disarray and another one of the Mafia knives was protruding from inside her empty rib cage.

Olivia Forester: dyed pink hair, green eyes, no family and several friends.

According to what Alfred found, she was a party animal and had several lovers of both genders. She couldn't have been more different than Isabelle. She worked at a pub, the Fox and Goblin. Which was the first place Alice left to as soon as she'd landed in London.

The door was an ugly bright green, and an orange fox was drinking with a goblin on the sign. "Is this seriously the place?" Alice glanced at Alfred, her face filled with disgust. The pub hadn't opened, yet.

Alfred nodded. "The owner's doing it for fun, y'know, like retirement project or whatever. Name's Yao Wang. Chinese immigrant."

"Yeah?" Alice took a sip of her tea. It was different when Francis didn't make it. It didn't taste as good as usual.

"Yo, dudette, like what happened with you and Francey-pants?" Alfred asked, looking down at her.

"What makes you think something happened?" Alice shot back, irritated.

"That." Alfred said, pointedly. "You've been snappin' at everyone even more than usual. I don't even know how it's humanly possible for someone to be as grumpy as you, but you've managed to break your record this week. Even Mary Sue notices. And all she does is flirt."

Alice mumbled a string of curses. Bloody bastards that can't mind their own damn business.

"Sooooooo?" Alfred looked at her expectantly.

"What are you? My sassy gay friend?" Alice glared at Alfred, wishing the owner would come and open his pub already.

"No, I'm your heroic gay friend." Alfred said, "Now, tell Uncle Alfie. What happened?"

"No."

Alfred was silent for a while. Did he really have to do this to her? Then he looked her in the eyes. Big round blue eyes full of honest worry and pure innocence. "Hey, big sister? Big sister? Y'know you can tell me, right?"

Silence and then...Alice exploded, steam nearly coming from her ears. Her ultimate weakness: Baby brother Alfie. They'd been raised right next door to each other and they went to the same school, so they were nearly brother and sister. He'd accidentally called her that years and years ago and discovered that it was her greatest chink in her armor.

Needless to say, he'd taken advantage of that over the years. (Well, except when he was a teenager. They were constantly fighting when he was in his teens.) And even though Alfred was more shy about calling her big sister (He was a grown man, damn it!), the fact never changed that she was his big sister.

Forever and always.

Alice wasn't good with emotions. At all. She'd bottle them up and throw them away and she'd continue to do that, until they all just overflowed and became a tsunami that pretty much destroyed everything in its path. That was just how she was.

But Alfred would take her mental breakdowns every day rather than have her disappear again. He'd take five hundred breakdowns a day, every day for the rest of his life. Alfred could remember the sickening feeling when Alice had gone missing after her father's death. They'd all thought that she was dead. If her siblings had had the money, they would have payed for tombstone.

Years later, Alfred heard a knock on his door. It was a Sunday, and he wasn't religious, so he'd stayed at home. And there she was at his doorstep, well dressed, weary and heartbroken. But alive. He didn't know either to smack her, scream 'GHOST!' or strangle her in a hug.

In the end, he decided on all three.

Alfred knew about her ex fiancé, he knew about her traveling with the orchestra, and about why she came back. He was still pissed at her for not saying anything before she left, but she was alive and okay. That mattered more to him than anything. Her real siblings, though. That was another story.

He was pretty sure that even now, years later, they were still holding grudges against her. She was always working, providing for her family, and never had a chance to tell them why she left. It didn't really help the whole 'bonding' thingamajiggy.

"If I tell you," Alice muttered. "You can't tell anyone, okay?"

"I cross my heart."

"That includes your boyfriend."

"Ivan? Got it."

"And your cat... And your dog."

There was a hesitation in the air. "...Really? Even Tony and Rasputin? They're, like, my best friends!" Alice glared at him. "Okay, okay. Fine."

"...We went on a date and... nearly kissed..."

Her voice was tiny, a whisper. But Alfred still heard her. "YES!" Alfred burst, fist-pumping the air. "YES! AW, HELL YEAH!"

"You cheeseburger-eating monkey!" Alice growled, launching her fist into his stomach before he woke up the world. Her face was burning brighter than a fireplace. "Shut the bloody hell up!"

Despite the wheezes, the American was still grinning. "The ship has sailed."

"The what?"

Alfred ignored her. "It's finally become cannon, my brothers and sisters."

"Alfred, you don't have any brothers. Or sisters." Alice stared at him. "Are you all right?"

"In pure bliss." He looked up at her. "So, when do I become Uncle Alfie?"

 _"...Excuse me?"_

"Actually, when's the wedding? I need to ready my heroic speech that will bring you to tears an-"

"Alfred, shut up and let me finish." Alice cut him off before finishing the story.

"Oh." Alfred's face dropped for a bit, extremely depressed that he'd cock-blocked his own OTP, but then brightened again. "So, what'd you do after?"

"Nothing."

"What!?" Alfred's face dropped again. "How could you do this to me, man? My OTP was almost cannon! The armada was _soooo_ fricking close to sailing!"

"It's not like it meant anything to him." Alice huffed.

"You don't know tha-"

"Oh, yeah? Then why did he immediately start flirting with a group of girls as soon as he laid eyes on them? Why is he not here at work with me, other than he is completely disgusted with himself and me?" Alice ranted, not facing Alfred.

Oops. "Alice-"

"Ah, Detective Jones and Officer Kirkland?" An Asian man stood in the doorway of the pub. He had a long black ponytail, Chinese accent and Chinese clothes.

Alice tried not to glare. "I'm detective Kirkland. This is my assistant, Mr. Jones." She saw Alfred wince. "And you're Yao Wang?"

"That is me." The man looked only slightly startled.

 _He's gotten weaker in his retirement._ Alice thought. _I've heard stories about him. My father only met_ _him once or twice when he'd invaded Romulus Vargas' territory._ "We'd like to ask you some questions about your employee, Olivia Forester."

"Yes, yes." The man nodded. "Come in."

He led them through the tacky, green and orange pub and to the back room. It was a bright red door with a golden dragon painted on it. He pushed the door open and led them into an office styled in traditional Chinese décor. "Come, sit." Yao led them to the sofas surrounding the coffee table. "Would you like any green tea, aiyah?"

"No, thank you." Alice said, fiddling with her pocket-watch-disguised recorder. "We'd like to get straight to business."

"Very well, I understand." Yao nodded agreeably. "But first, do I know you?"

"What?"

"Do I know you?" He repeated, keeping her pinned under a hard glare. "You look very familiar. You said your last name was Kirkland, aru?"

Alice froze. Shit. "Yes," She kept her voice level, glancing at Alfred slightly. Did Yao recognize her father's name?

"You don't happen to have a brother named Alistair Kirkland, aru?" Yao's gaze hardened.

Alice nearly groaned, but her body deflated in relief. "Possibly."

His glare intensified. Obviously, her sarcasm wasn't appreciated. "Tall, brutish, drunkard, red hair and green eyes, aru?"

Shit.

Before Alice could say anything, Alfred burst out laughing. "Wha-" He had another fit of laughs. "What did he do, now, dude?!" The oblivious American didn't notice the sizzling glare of the Chinese man.

" ** _He destroyed my pub, aru!_** " Yao burst, " ** _I hired him to play for us on St. Patrick's day, but noooo! He trashes my pub, starts a fight that escalated into three people getting thrown out of a window, aru! AND THEN THE BASTARD HAS THE NERVE TO DRINK ALL OF MY LIQUOR, ARU!_** " Yao was breathing hard, as if he'd just run marathon. " ** _Leave my store. Now._** "

"But, sir-"

" ** _Now._** "

Alice wanted to scream at her stupid brother. "Alfred," She got up from the couch. "I'll see you at the office tonight." She stormed out of the room, not caring about the sizzling glare that was keeping watch over her and Alfred's helpless gaze.

" ** _Stupid idiot!_** " Alice hissed, leaving the pub. " ** _I'm going to beat him to death with his own bloody_** **_bagpipes!_** "

"Surery you don't mean that, Kirkurando-san."

Alice's head turned to the side. A Japanese man stood there placidly, smiling at her softly. A Japanese man at the Fox and Goblin that knew her name. What were the chances? "Kiku Honda."

" _Hai._ "

Alice paused for a moment, wondering what she should say. "Did you come to meet me on your own, or did Macaroni Brain send you?"

Kiku stared at her dumbfounded, before bursting in laughter. "I was warned about you, Kirkurando-san, but I didn't know you were this bold."

She smirked. "Do you want to go get a cup of tea? I'd like to ask you some questions."

" _Mochiron desu_."


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

The two just ended up stopping at a small cafe across the street from the Fox and Goblin. It was a simple shop that was run by a cheerful family that came from India ten or so years ago.

Kiku was a quiet, respectful man, and wouldn't have ever come across as a member of one of the most powerful Mafias in the world. "I was with my fiancé at the times of Brackwater-san and Forester-san's deaths." Kiku finally said. "My _chichi_ , Yao-san, and my _ani_ 's and _imouto_ can vouch for me."

"I figured you wouldn't be involved with the murders." She nodded. "Feliciano's important to you. You've known the twins for as long as you can remember. Why would you want to kill him? Especially when Lovino could rip your ass into shreds in a matter of minutes."

Kiku didn't seem offended. Not openly, at least. " _Hai_. I was in America with my fiancée." He continued, "So, I'm herpress in that respect. "However," a dangerous gleam appeared in his smoldered brown eyes. "I wirr herp you find that **_yarou_** who dared to threaten my _nakama._ "

Alice restrained a smirk. "Well, you could start with telling me the address of Elizabeta and Vash."

"Erizabeta rives in an apartment comprex in sussex, and Vash rives in a high-crass mansion in the middre of Rondon." Kiku started to write the addresses on a napkin. "But it is unrikery that it was Erizabeta. She practicarry raised Fericiano and Rovino, she's rike their _haha_ or _ane_." He slipped her the piece of cloth.

"And Vash?"

Kiku frowned. "He's anti-sociar, grumpy and no one rearry knows him. He gets the job done, no questions asked or any sympathy for his targets or their famiry's. That's why he made it so high in Rovino's ranks. I don't know him very werr."

Alice frowned. All right, then. "Did either of them come to the Fox and Goblin often?"

"Erizabeta has never been to the pub, before. She doesn't rearry reave Sussex." Kiku shook his head. "But Vash came around every now and then with some girrs he was dating."

"...Can you tell me the names of the girls he brought?" Alice asked.

Kiku shook his head. "I didn't speak to them." He continued, "But I can get you the footage from the camera-spiders in the pub."

Camera-spiders: little animatronics with flexible legs that could carry them up walls and (usually) eight spycam eyes. They were tiny, about the size a pea, and they could sometimes sting an enemy with lethal poison. They were efficient. Too efficient. Soon, criminal organizations (*cough* Mafia *cough*) were using them to rob things from under everyone's noses, to kill without getting caught and steel government information.

The British government decreed them illegal, along with other governments.

Blueprints were destroyed, the inventors were either wiped out or hidden, and ultimately were a fairly undiscussed topic. Alice raised an eyebrow. "You do realize that I work for the government?"

Kiku smiled and drank some of his tea before speaking. "The government pays you, but you don't work for them. Otherwise, you would have turned in every rittre dirty secret about the Mafia. Or Rovino would have kirred you. Whichever came first." He continued, "You work for the people. You work for justice, that's why you're perfectry fine with breaking the raw."

Alice huffed. "Well, then."

Kiku chuckled, "I'rr bring the spiders to you."

"When-?!" Alice's head whipped around. Kiku was gone. She frowned down at the check. He'd left her with the bill. "Damn ninja."

XXX

"What do you got for me, Alfred?" Alice stormed into her office, still a bit pissed.

Alfred hopped off Alice's desk, doughnuts and sprinkles spraying everywhere. "ARGH!" He fell from her desk, flat onto his face. "Damn it! That fudging hurt!"

The Englishwoman rolled her eyes. She was used to that sort of behavior. "That's what you get for bringing your disgusting food into my office."

"Alfred, _êtes-vous d'accord?!_ " Francis walked into the room, frowning and carrying a giant folder or two of papers. "I brought the papers you asked for-" He stopped when he saw Alice.

"I thought you were staying home today?" Alice asked, tossing doughnuts at Alfred's face casually.

"Eh, _oui_." Francis gave her a nervous smile. Oh no. She wasn't cussing at him or glaring at him. She was acting like a normal person. He was so dead. "I was, but zen _monsieur_ Alfred called me and said he need some help."

"And you let him boss you around?" Alice stopped throwing doughnuts.

"Er, well..." So dead.

"I'm your boss," Alice huffed. "You only have to take orders from me. And you-" She threw another doughnut at Alfred. Hard enough to hurt that time. "Don't order around my lackey."

Francis' blushed furiously and his heart seemed to stutter. She wasn't mad at him! And Alice said that only she could boss him around. _I've been promoted from slave to lackey!_ He thought.

Maybe in another two years he'd get to partner.

Ah, the life of Francis Bonnefoy was truly a pitiful one. " _Merci, ma reine._ " Francis smiled at her, beaming in joy.

It was Alice's turn to turn bright red. "S-s-shut up, Frog." She couldn't look at him straight and glared at her shoe instead.

Alfred thought his heart was going to burst from happiness! **_Finally!_** Finally, he'd be damned if he didn't make his OTP cannon that month. "Awwwww~!" He let out a very, manly and heroic squeal, thank you very much. "You guys are just so fudging cute~!"

" ** _Shut up!_** " Alice's leg whipped into the vulnerable area behind his knee-cap, knocking him back on to the ground. " ** _Say another bloody thing and you won't be able to walk for weeks!_** "

Horror flashed over Alfred's face. Plan B. "B-But big sister?" Alfred looked up at her. "Please, don't hurt me. I didn't mean to make you angry-I-I just thought that-" He sniffed. "Y-you two were just so-so-"

Alice cut him off a life-threatening hug. "Don't cry-please, don't cry." She didn't do well with tears. Her family was full of tough, strong and stiff-upper lipped people. Alice had been a crybaby all the way up until she turned five, it was then that she began to develop her own stiff lip.

She wasn't used to crying (Alfred usually was the one to deal with the victim's family, anyway).

Francis watched in awe as Alice began to soothe an obviously faking Alfred. She whispered promises of candy and soda if he stopped crying. How in the world could the most ingenious, clever women in all of England fall for his stupid act?

 **Translations:**

 _Chichi =_ Father.

 _Ani_ = Big brother.

 _Imouto_ = Little sister.

 _Hai_ = Yes.

 _Yarou_ = Bastard.

 _Nakama_ = Comerades.

 _Haha =_ Mother.

 _Ane =_ Big sister.

 _êtes-vous d'accord?!_ = Are you all right?!

 _Oui =_ Yes.

 _Monsieur =_ Sir.

 _Merci, ma reine =_ Thanks, my Queen.


	11. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

After Alfred had calmed down, he'd told Alice what he'd learnt from Yao.

He'd said that Olivia was indeed working the day she'd been killed, so once again, it was another night attack. He said that Olivia was in a relationship off and on with Vash Zwingli (Alfred mispronounced the man's last name three times before he gave up). He'd also said that there was a blonde and green eyed girl that dressed well and came there often, up until the point of Isabelle's death. Alfred said that it was likely her, but Alice wouldn't know for sure until Kiku gave her the camera-spider footage.

Whenever that was.

And so, Alice sat in her room, glaring down at the case files. Both the girls had green eyes, so maybe the killer had some sort of fetish or bad memories. And both of them were seen at the Fox and Goblin, though Isabelle couldn't be confirmed yet.

Vash was so far the strongest suspect.

He seemed to have no emotional attachment with the Mafia, so it could've been a way to attack Lovino or Feliciano. He also was the only of the three suspects that apparently knew the two girls. Alice would go to visit Elizabeta first, that Saturday, and then she'd go see Vash on Sunday. She sighed, her body aching and creaking from tiredness. When was the last time she'd gotten to sleep a full night? God, she couldn't even remember.

"Alice?"

She looked up, weary eyes blinking. "Yeah?" Dylan sat in the doorway of her room, his wheelchair gleaming slightly in the lamplight.

Her second oldest brother had a mop of messy auburn hair, smooth jade green eyes, freckles and a weird obsession with sheep. He stayed home most of the time, occupying himself with gardening and cooking and writing. Dylan had been stuck in a rut of depression for a long time after he'd lost his legs. He became violent, and with dramatic mood swings and isolation from the rest of the family. Dylan eventually got better, once he'd begun gardening. He was the one Alice got along with best. They were both quiet, loved to read, garden and most sensible in the family.

He also treated her a bit kindlier than her other siblings did. He didn't know why Alice had left, or even why she returned, but he knew it was bad. And he also understood that she'd tell them in her own time, even if she'd been in England for a couple years now. "Why are you still up?" Dylan rolled into the room.

Subconsciously, Alice pushed the folders away from him. "Just working some overtime." She didn't need them to see the papers. She wouldn't let them see those horrors.

"When are you going to turn in?" Dylan raised an eyebrow at her.

"Soon."

" _Gelwyddog_." Dylan said, "C'mon. You need to get some sleep before you lose your job because you were too tired to do it right."

"I can't." Alice frowned. "I need to keep working."

"An' why the bludy heel no'?" Alistair appeared, looking even more roughed up than usual. His blood red hair was untamed and his dark, forest green eyes looked ready to kill. "Ye keepin' the res' of us awa'e." Dylan glared at Alistair. He may have been the oldest by age, but in maturity level, he might as well have been the rebellious teenager.

"I just need to, okay?" Alice hadn't forgotten why Yao had kicked her out of the pub. Bloody useless brothers.

"Leave 'er be, lads." Wilma snorted. Her orange/red hair had been cut short-to chin level-but it still curled in wild directions, making it look shorter than it was. Her clover green eyes also gleamed with a death warrant. "She's a bleedin mule. She ain't goin' ter stop workin'. Never does."

"Aye." Patrick agreed with droopy clover eyes and a mass of curly orange/red hair. "If she wants ta keel 'erself workin', why don' we let 'er?"

"That's enough," Dylan scolded the three of them. His eye twitching going unnoticed by anyone except for Alice. "You three go back to bed. I'll deal with Alice."

"Ye'r nae th' oldest!" Alistair hissed, even more pissed off.

He never did stop being a bloody teenager, did he? He could just drink alcohol legally now. "That don't mean you get to bully everyone aroun' as ye please." Dylan argued, " _Rydych chi'n oedolyn. Gweithredu fel un._ "

Alice snorted.

Just what exactly did any of them know about being an adult? Dylan was the housekeeper. Alistair barely made any money as a bagpipe player and part-time waiter (and most of what he had was tossed towards his liver-destroying project). Wilma worked as a barmaid and they were lucky to get enough pocket change from that. Patrick was working under a blacksmith, and that cost more than anything.

They didn't realize it, but Alice was basically feeding a family of five. And they expected her to get some shut eye? Not bloody likely. "Are ye even listenin'?" Alice shot away from Wilma's hand that was waving in front of her eyes. "Hell, yer ain'. Listen whaen we're talkin' ter yer!"

"Sorry." Alice said, "But I need to work on this."

The siblings exchanged looks. "Alice, what is-"

"Whit's sae damn fuckin' important tha' ye hae ta skip sleepin'?"

"It's nothing. Nothing important." Alice muttered, but her gut was simmering in fury. "It's none of your business."

Wrong choice of words. " _Cad atá i gceist agat nach bhfuil sé ar ár ngnó fuilteacha?!_ " Wilma slammed her hand on Alice's bed post. " _Ar ndóigh, tá sé ár ngnó diabhal!_ "

Alice's voice slowly rose. "It's not something you should be fucking worried about!" Things got explosive quick in this house.

"Then what?!" Patrick hissed back.

"How about the bloody bills?" Alice bit back sarcastically. "How about the fact that we're living off of fucking pocket change tossed at us out of pity! Oh! I know, how about the part where you're all off drinking your livers away, instead of facing your problems like you're bloody supposed to?!"

"Why you little-!" Alice swat away Alistair's hand.

"Don't say that to me." Alice's voice sizzled. "You think you contribute so much? Do you want to look at the actual truth? Or should I let you continue to live in your little fantasy?"

"Alice, that's enough!" Dylan's voice shook the room into silence. The silent was thick and full of silent battles with glares and facial expressions.

"What the bloody-!" Patrick yelped from behind Alice. "Oh, shit! Oh, God!"

Alice snatched the folder away from her brother.

"What the hell is it?" Wilma's hand reached over. "Damn it. Give it ta me, ye stubborn ass!"

 ** _"No."_** Alice's glare pierced Wilma's soul. **_"No."_**

"Yes!" Wilma growled. She gave a swift rough tug and the papers scattered. The pictures and documents floated to the ground like feathers. The room was filled with buzzing silence. Alice dove to the ground, quickly trying to scavenge the papers. But it was too late. They'd already seen everything.

Well, shit.

"What is this?" Alistair's voice was steady and monotone. That was never a good sign.

"Work." Alice said. "I've told you, I'm a detective."

"But like pa?" Patrick's voice held nothing but bitter betrayal. "Ye're a fuckin' homicide detective!"

Alice flinched, but didn't say anything.

"Why dinae ye tell us?" Alistair's voice was still monotone.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. She was so fucking dead. "I never really got the chance to." Alice shrugged. Wouldn't it be ironic, a homicide detective murdered? "You know I work the late shift."

"An' the bloody weekends." Wilma remarked snidely.

"Saving lives matters more than weekends, Wilma." Alice shot back.

"And there aren't any other bloody detectives?!" Dylan spoke finally, his voice filled with venom. "Ye're avoiding us, damn it! Ye always have been, ever since ye got back."

"That's not true-"

"Like hell it ain't." Her Scottish brother cut off her sentence. "Ye wen' an' offskied, righ' after the old man died. Ye wouldnae done it if he hadnae said somethin' to ya."

A sudden realization washed over her dense siblings. They were just figuring this out now? Actually, shit. What the bloody hell was she supposed to tell them?

"What did he tell you, Alice?" Dylan seemed to have calmed down.

"Nothing." Alice said too quickly. "He didn't say anything."

"Bullshit." Wilma said, but there was no venom in it. She adored their father, they all did, but she was daddy's little girl. Even if she did some pretty terrifying things when she was a teenager. "What did pa say ta ye?"

Alice looked around. Hard, steady and solid forest emerald: Alistair. Soothing jade: Dylan. Bright clovers, the lucky twins: Wilma and Patrick. Where was she in all of this? "I can't." She ignored how her voice broke. "Please, just...Wait until I've finished the case."

"Alice, this can't wait-"

"It has too." her voice left no room for doubt. "Because, when I tell you...what he told me," She sighed, her shoulders sunk. "Believe me, it'll be bad. Bloody hell, you might just kick me out after I tell you." She gave a humorless laugh.

"We wouldnae-"

 ** _"Alistair."_** Alice stopped him.

"Fine." Dylan said before his temperamental, idiotic Scottish brother could. "We'll wait. We've waited for five years; we can wait five more." With that, he rolled out of the room, but Alice didn't miss the fleeting glare he gave her. Or the looks of betrayal and anger as the rest of the siblings left her room.

She'd tell them. She'd stop running, finally. If she made it out of this case alive.

 **Translations:**

 _Gelwyddog_ = Liar.

 _Rydych chi'n oedolyn. Gweithredu fel un._ = You're an adult. Act like one.

 _Cad atá i gceist agat nach bhfuil sé ar ár ngnó fuilteacha?!_ = What do you mean it's not our bloody business?!

 _Ar ndóigh, tá sé ár ngnó diabhal! =_ Of course, it's our damn business!


	12. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

That Saturday morning, Alice left two hours earlier than she normally did.

Knowing her siblings, they'd still be exceptionally pissed from last night. She'd managed to find an empty compartment on the train to Sussex. Alice looked around, as if someone might be watching, before she pulled the letters out of her pocket.

Antonio's letters.

She hadn't had the chance to read it, with all that was going on with her case. She took out her Swiss Army knife and slashed the letter open. You could never be too careful with the Spanish bastard. She pulled out three small pieces of folded paper. They were covered in chicken scratch. Alice frowned. That wasn't Antonio's handwriting.

Alice adjusted her glasses, trying to get a better look at it.

It wasn't in English. Or in any language. It was written in code, a mix of Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, Greek numbers and letters, Celtic symbols and... Viking runes? There were several more there that Alice didn't recognize. Well, shit. She made a note to call up Lovino and ask what the hell his husband was doing...and to visit a library that specialized in that kind writings.

She put it back in her pocket as the train pulled into a halt. Hell, maybe Elizabeta would know something.

XXX

"Who te hell are you?"

Alice raised an eyebrow at the woman in front of her. Brown hair, green eyes, one heel still on and smeared lipstick. "Have fun last night?" She caught Elizabeta's questioning glare. "You reek of alcohol."

"Listen, I don't know who you tink you are, but-"

"Alice." She held her hand out. "Alice Kirkland."

Elizabeta's jaw dropped and all hostility was forgotten. "Y-you're te one who saved Feli and Luddy!" Alice thought she was going to shake her hand, but was pulled into a fierce hug, instead. " _Köszönöm! Köszönöm!_ "

Alice didn't know Hungarian, but she had a good guess at what she was saying. "Uh, sure. Can I come inside? I'd like to ask you a few questions."

" _Igen, igen_." Elizabeta pulled Alice inside and closed the door behind her before rushing off to the kitchen. "Are you hungry? Something you'd like to drink? Milk? Tea? Juice? I have some Zwack."

"No thanks," Alice shook her head. "I'd just like to ask you some questions about a, um, case I'm working on."

"Oh, tat's right!" Elizabeta smiled. "You're a homicide detective. I just got done doing a job last night, too, you know. He was a _mocsok disznó_ , but boy, he knew how to run."

"Right," Alice chose to ignore the fact that Elizabeta had just told her, a homicide detective, that she just killed someone. "Would you mind if I sat down?" _Away from the kitchen..._ Alice thought, remembering what Lovino had said about frying pans.

"Oh, right," Elizabeta smiled, leading her to the living room. "And call me 'Lizzie'. I'm sort of like teir mom, you know? Or big sister. I used to watch tem and take care of tem when tey were just _kisfiúk_."

Alice nodded, absently and sat down on one of the sofas. "That's what Kiku said."

"You talked to Kiku?" Elizabeta said, also sitting down. "How is he?"

"He owes me five pounds." Alice deadpanned. "He was the one that gave me your address."

"Gave you my address?" Elizabeta repeated. "Your case must be serious for him to do tat."

"See for yourself." Alice slid the case files across the Hungarian's coffee table. Seriously, with the amount of times she'd shown this confidential information, Alice should've been behind bars by then.

It didn't take long for Elizabeta's eyes to scan through the file papers.

"I see."

Everything about Elizabeta changed. It was if a dark, menacing aura sizzled around her in a cloud of come-near-me-and-I-will-kill-you-ness. Her green eyes went dark and her once kind face was over shroud in pure, unfiltered anger. Suddenly, the fact that she was part of the Mafia didn't seem so unbelievably.

Alice tucked the folder back into her briefcase. "Are you willing to help me?" She asked, looking up at the pissed woman in front of her.

Elizabeta was too absorbed in her shivering anger to say anything other than " _Igen_ ".

Alice began to fiddle with her pocket watch. "Can you tell me, where you were all last week?"

"Working." Elizabeta responded. "I have a day job at te local nursery school."

Alice didn't say anything about how unusual that was for a woman who slayed people with frying pans. "Do you have anyone that can vouch for you?"

" _Igen_ , two oter women were on te same shift as me. Sammy Dodgers and Lavender Borne." Elizabeta continued, "You can check wit te train managers, as well. Tey keep records on who comes and goes. I've never been to London."

"All right," Alice nodded. "Have you ever heard the names Isabelle Blackwater or Olivia Forester?"

Elizabeta paused, thinking for a moment. "I tink I heard Vash talking about tem once or twice. We go on missions togeter, sometimes. I tink he was fighting wit...Isabelle? And he kept switching from German to English tat it was hard to get anyting but a jist of what he was saying."

"What do you make of this?" Alice gave Elizabeta the letters that were given to her by the man on the dirigible. "They were delivered to me by one of Carriedo's men, but they don't look like his handwriting."

Elizabeta nodded, frowning deeply. "Tis isn't Antonio's writing, but it looks familiar. Also, Antonio doesn't know crap about ancient symbols or hieroglyphics. Perhaps, someone is trying to frame him or te person tat deliverd te letter is te one who gave you tis message."

Alice nodded. "I was thinking that, too. I'll have to call a meeting with Antonio and Lovino, see what's going on." She paused, "You said that the writing looked similar?"

"Ah, _igen_." The Hungarian frowned at the letter before handing it to Alice again. "I only met te man once or twice, but he's dead now."

"All right," Alice stood, deflated. "If there's anything else, please call me." She gave Elizabeta her card.

XXX

"Oi, Macaroni Brain."

"Do you know what fucking time it is?" He shouted over the phone. "I got shit to do."

"Is your husband there? I need to have a word with him." Alice's voice left no room for objection. "It's important."

" _Vai avanti._ "

Alice knew she was on speaker phone, there was no way Lovino wouldn't be listening in. "Did you send someone to give me a letter?"

" _Qué?_ " Antonio's voice was filled with annoyance and confusion.

"I received three letters on the dirigible flight back to London." Alice explained. "They were given to me by one of your men, Southwestern accent and terrible grammar."

Some Spanish cusses were hissed out. " _Yo no he enviado ninguna carta_."

" _Ragazza..._ " Lovino paused, possibly looking at Antonio. "Are you-a sure it-a was-a one of-a Antonio's people?"

"He had the tattoo, Lovino." Alice hissed, making sure no one was watching her. "He had the bloody tattoo!"

"...We'll call you when we land in Britain..." The phone hung up.

 **Translations:**

 _Köszönöm! Köszönöm!_ = Thank you! Thank you!

 _Igen, Igen._ = Yes, yes.

 _Mocsok disznó_ = Filthy pig.

 _Kisfiúk_ = Little boys.

 _Vai avanti =_ Go ahead.

 _Qué?_ = What?

 _Yo no he enviado ninguna carta_. = I haven't sent any letter.

 _Ragazza_ = Girl.


	13. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Alice didn't find sneaking out of the house as easy as Saturday.

"Where are ye goin'?" Wilma asked, giving her a grumpy glare. She was not a morning person. And the morning was not a Wilma person.

"Work." Alice shrugged, deciding to just go ahead and make some tea for her journey since Wilma was awake, anyways.

"Even on Sunday?" Wilma's eyes softened a bit. Their father hadn't been a religious man, not really, but their mother was apparently. So, in honor of his wife, Fergus took the children to church every Sunday. Even if he was supposed to be working in miles high paperwork and solving cases about serial killers and rapists.

"Yeah," Alice barely muttered, almost finished with her tea. "I think he might forgive me this once. Or maybe I'll visit the church tonight."

"An' wha' aboot ma?"

"I don't know." And then she left the house, trying to get away as fast as she could without looking like she was running away.

 _~A little history about Alice's family~_

Her mother died right after giving birth to Alice.

She only knew from the pictures that her mother had had dark blonde hair and bright green eyes, like Alice.

She was a witch.

Elizabeth Margery Breckenridge was a simple town girl with no father, and a sickly mother and two sisters to take care of. She took several jobs: Laundry girl, farm help, waitress and... Witch.

Her mother was obsessed with the black arts (And her sisters got involved, too).

She could see things. Dead people, magical creatures and she got lots of visions, too. But Elizabeth could communicate with the unseen things, unlike Alice and her siblings. Because of her...gift, her mother's health had suffered.

It was a miracle that she'd managed to have five children.

She moved to Scotland as a psychic for the police. That was how Alice's parents met.

Fergus Kirkland wasn't much better off in the financial situation than Elizabeth was. His parents died on a boat trip to India, and his uncle, a wealthy business man, hated Fergus and sent him to live in an orphanage. Fergus started working with the police as soon as he turned eighteen, since a friend managed to land him a job in the service.

The two met on a case and continued to work together for years, until Fergus finally asked Elizabeth to marry him.

They jumped around, looking for better employment for Fergus. Edinburgh was where Alistair was born and they'd lived there for three years. Dylan was born in Cardiff and they'd stayed there for two years. The twins were born in Dublin and they lived there for about five years. Finally, they moved to London, where Alice was born.

All of Elizabeth's children had seen something at least once in their life.

Alistair supposedly had a strange obsession with the Loch Ness that he didn't tell anyone about, Dylan used to talk to dragons, and the twins danced with leprechauns and elves. But they all grew out of it, one way or another.

Alice didn't.

She was always sick as a child and was bedridden for at least seven years of her life, under constant doctor supervision and then off and on for the rest of it. She was supposed to have died along with her mother.

They said that Alice was too weak, born too early.

But her father didn't give up on her. At least, that's what he used to say to Alice every time she came down with another cold or was forced to bed for weeks at a time. He used to say that he visited the hospital every day and managed to blackmail a priest into coming with him every Sunday.

Fergus used to say that he prayed and prayed every night for her to get better...and for her to stop eatin' up all his money. That was the story's punchline ending.

She used to hate those as a kid, but now she found herself missing those stories almost as much as him.

Her father was good at stories. He read to them every night, each of her siblings picking their own story. It took him hours before he finally got to her, but he still managed to spit out the words with such ferocious spirit that Alice found herself lost in the story.

She only wished he'd kept his secret to his grave.


	14. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Vash Zwingli was not happy to see Alice.

He lived in one of the poshest parts of London and had a perfect stiff-upper lip to match.

And he wasn't even British.

His condo was so clean it looked like it came out of a magazine. Too clean. There wasn't a speck of dust, a blemish on the white sofas or one dull tile in that place.

Newly bought. But why? He was a Mafia member, so it was doubtful that he was running away from anybody. A small trace of lavender. A lady's perfume. Maybe a house maid?

"Your home is very clean, Mr. Zwingli." Alice duly noted, trying to ignore how...bleached everything looked. "Have you just moved?"

" _Ja._ " Was all the man muttered in front of her. His hair was blonde and cut in a weird, choppy way at the nape of his neck. Dark green eyes glared at her, obviously not pleased that she was in his home.

Alice doubted his mind would change even if he knew that she had connections with Lovino. "Would you mind if I asked you some questions?"

Vash didn't say anything.

Alice continued. "Where were you, on the night of Tuesday, two weeks ago?"

"Here." Vash said, "Reading."

That was fast. "And what were you reading?" Neither Vash nor Alice were the type of people for small talk, but if she got straight to the point, Alice was sure that he'd shut down and refuse to say anything.

"Sherlock Holmes, Volume 1."

"Which story?" Alice asked.

"A Study in Scarlet." Vash huffed. " _Frau_ , vhat zhe hell do you want?"

"Have you ever met a girl called Olivia Forester?" Alice prodded. "Maybe an Isabelle Blackwater?"

Vash flinched. Oh, ho. " _Nein._ "

"Really?" Alice asked, "I know two people who say that you did know them. Where were you Tuesday night?"

"Get out." Vash hissed, eyes sizzling. " _Die fuck aus meinem Haus!_ "

Alice stood, seeing a gun positioned at his waist. "I'm leaving. All right? I'm leaving." She carefully walked backwards from Vash, keeping an eye on the gun.

"And don't come back!" The door slammed in her face.

XXX

"He kicked you out!" Alfred exclaimed on the phone. "Dude, that was like a total jerk-ass move!"

Alice decided not to mention the gun. She didn't need the American busting into Vash's house, screaming about freedom and justice and whatnot. "It's fine. I've got someone bringing me footage from the Fox and Goblin. If he's in it and talking to the girls, we can officially bring him in for questioning."

"Yo, dude, how'd you do that?"

"Connections, Alfred. Connections." She looked across her desk, at Kiku. "I got to go, see you tomorrow." She hung up the phone. "So?" Alice asked the Japanese man. "What did you find?"

"This." Kiku pulled out a bisected Camera-spider. The golden gears whirred and clinked. After wheezing for a moment, an old hologram appeared.

Vash made his way across the pub, a woman hanging off from his arm. Pink hair: Olivia Forester.

They met another woman. Blonde hair, rich clothing: Isabelle Blackwater.

"What day was this?" Alice watched as the three of them started laughing and talking to each other.

"The Sunday before Isaberre was kirred." Kiku said. "There is no recorded footage of any of the three on Monday, however, they seemed to be arguing among themserves on Tuesday night."

Alice frowned. "Do they all leave the bar together?"

" _Hai._ " Kiku nodded, "It's possibre then that Vash-san and Olivia-san kirred Isaberre that night and then Vash-san kirred Olivia-san to keep her quiet?"

"It's possible, especially since his alibi was that he was reading in his home on Tuesday night." _And he lied_ , Alice continued. "But it would be too easy. For example, maybe they were fighting about something and that caused them to do...that. So then, why did Vash kill Olivia so viciously? And what the bloody hell were they fighting about?"

Kiku shrugged and gave her the camera-spider. " _Watashi wa shirimasen_. But at reast you can formarry bring him in now, _hai_?"

Alice nodded. "You wouldn't know anything about this would you?" She slipped him the letter with strange writings on it.

" _Īe_." Kiku shook his head. "But I have seen this handwriting before. He died a few years ago, though."

"That's what Elizabeta said." Alice continued, "That he died in a gunfight. Is there any way that he could've survived?"

" _Īe_ , I was the one who kirred him." Kiku muttered. "And besides, he didn't have a set of these knives. He wasn't part of Rovino's Mafia."

"So, either it's a coincidence or someone's good at faking someone else's handwriting?" Alice deflated. "I'll go the library tomorrow and see what can find."

 **Translations:**

 _Ja_ = Yes.

 _Frau_ = Woman.

 _Nein_ = No.

 _Die fuck aus meinem Haus!_ = Get the fuck out of my house!

 _Hai_ = Yes.

 _Watashi wa shirimasen_ = I don't know.

 _Ie_ = No.


	15. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

" _Où allons-nous?_ "

"The library." Alice answered Francis. "I just need to look something up."

Francis gave her a curious smirk. " ** _You_** need to look somezing up?" Well, that was it. The world was ending. "What is it?"

Alice glared at him. "Shut up, you bleeding frog." She paused, "And its classified information." Alice liked libraries. Very little people-and the few were generally quiet-, a vast array of books and voices from the past. Alice spent a lot of her time with books as a child. Books and violin.

The ceiling of the library stretched tall and wide, bookshelves stacked high up for at least two stories. And the library was still closed, so there was no people. Perfect.

"Isn't zis breaking and entering?" Francis asked from behind her.

"No." Alice said. "Not if you're a police officer. People tend to let those things slide when you're a police officer."

"Alice!" Francis scolded her as she opened the front door.

"Look," Alice showed him the silver key in her hand. "I have a friend who works here. She's supposed to be meeting us here in a few minutes, but she has a habit of running late so she gave me the key, all right?"

"You have friends?" Francis teased.

"Shocking, isn't it~!" A thick Romanian accent echoed through the library. They turned around. A woman dressed in red and black ran bounded to them, her strawberry blonde hair lashing around and red eyes gleaming. " _Alo!_ "

"It's about damn time-Ooph!" Alice was cut off when the Romanian girl threw herself at Alice.

"Ali!" She squealed, pulling Alice into a death hold. "I missed you so much!"

Francis saw a rare, shy smile cross his boss' face. This girl must have meant very much to her. A strike of jealousy shot through him. He knew he was being ridiculous, but still- why didn't he get this kind of attention? "I missed you too, Mira."

The Romanian girl spotted Francis for the first time. "Ooh, who's zis?" She wiggled her eyebrows at Alice. "Your boyfriend? Fiancé? _E iubitul tău secret?_ "

"Mira!" Alice snapped, her face bright red, not noticing how red Francis was. "This is my work partner, Francis Bonnefoy."

" _Încântat de cunoștință._ " Mira held her hand. "Vladimira (AN: Do I really have to tell you who she is?). I'm Alice's cousin."

"Cousin?" Francis repeated, slightly confused. The only thing that looked vaguely similar was the blonde hair and even that was a completely different shade.

"Yeah, no one else sees it eizer until I do zis," Mira cleared her throat and out came a perfect British accent. "Bloody hell, I'm Britain's best fucking detective."

Francis just stared. " _Mon Dieu_."

Mira burst out cackling, while Alice just huffed. "Where's the ancient hieroglyphics and symbols section at?" Alice asked.

"Just down zat isle, turn left on bookshelf zirteen and you'll find what you're lookin' for." Mira said absently. "Hey, Frenchy-fry, wanna go look at some porn wiz me?"

Alice practically growled at Mira. "Do not make me call your husband."

" _Bine! Bine! Ma predau._ " Mira laughed. "I'll go set up shop, and leave you two lovebirds to yourselves~!" She skipped away happily, still laughing.

Alice let out a huff. "Sorry about that, she's just a little eccentric."

"Not at all," Francis smiled. " _Alors, que voulez-vous que je fasse?_ "

"Go to the historical section. See if you can find any records on a Vash Zwingli, the two girls and the Fox and Goblin."

" _Sur ce, ma reine!_ " Francis winked before walking off to a different direction.

That'd keep him busy for a while. If Alice somehow involved Francis into the whole Mafia business, he could get killed and maybe his son, too.

The ancient hieroglyphics and symbols section was huge. It wasn't surprising since Mira was a mythology professor at the local college and was an avid reader of such things, since she'd been an archaeologist beforehand. Alice pulled out five books and started from there. The first line was a mix of Greek letters and Latin symbols.

 _Delta_... _Omikron_... _Lambda_...Another _omikron_... _Phi_... _Omikron_ and _Nu_... _Iota_ and _alpha_.

 _To murder._ A chill sizzled through Alice. She looked at the Latin symbols. An oval shape and something that looked like a sideways top. _Woman and man. Man murder woman._

"Well, at least we can be sure he's a dickhead." Alice muttered, sarcastically.

The next line was full of German.

 _Grimm auf diejenigen, deren Hände in Sünde gewirkt gebracht werden..._ Grim on those whose hands are wrought in sin.

Alice frowned. Grim? Death, then. So, some man was punishing women who sinned. The next and last line was in latin.

 _Ira malum..._ Wrath of evil.

Alice tried not to shudder, pulling out the other two notes. The first was covered in Viking runes and Greek.

 _Pi._ and _rho_... _Ohm_ and _tau_... _Omikron_ and _sigma_ : First _._

Oh. This was Isabelle's letter, wasn't it? Alice's scowl deepened as she moved to the next line.

 _Fe, gyfu, hagal_ : Wealth, exchange, sudden change...or scattering. Alice's mind flashed back to the murder scene. Another line of poetry, this time Chinese.

 _眼睛見證血液瀉，_

 _作為報復被帶來的，_

 _對於情人的輕蔑，_

 _火是我的憤怒，_

 _一跌，很多去，_

 _我不會停止，_

 _直到我的情人報仇。_

Which roughly translated to:

 _Eye witness the blood spilled,_

 _As retaliation_ _be_ _brought,_

 _For the lover of contempt,_

 _Fire is my anger,_

 _One down and many to go,_

 _I will not stop until my lover revenged._

"Damn it." Alice hissed, moving onto the next letter. It was Russian that time. "Damn it."

 _Два ушел, Сколько еще погибнет?_

 _Никакое количество золота, ни серебра, ни бриллиантов не остановит меня._

 _Девушки с волосами бледного золота упали,_

 _Сколько еще до твоего поймать меня ?_

 _Two gone,_

 _How many more will die?_

 _No amount of gold or silver or diamonds will not stop me._

 _Girls with hair pale gold fell,_

 _How long before you catch me?_

"Fuck!" Alice hissed, running out of the library. _He's not done yet._

"Alice?!" She ignored Mira.

"Cab!" Alice yelled, "Cab!" A black cab pulled up and Alice rushed inside. Before he could ask 'where to, miss?' she cut him off. "The Royal Justice and Crime Building. I'm in a hurry, sir."

The driver nodded and took off.

"Yo, hey dude, what's up? Find anything at the library?" Alfred's voice boomed over the phone.

 ** _"Bring Zwingli in."_** Alice hissed over the phone. "I've got a few questions for him."

XXX

"He says he'll only talk to you." Alfred said, walking into Alice's office with a frown on his face.

"That's not what he said last time," Alice grumbled before following Alfred to the questioning room. The room was large, with reflective mirrors for walls and simple, white tile floors and ceiling.

The bright light shed Vash in a harsh light. His dark emerald eyes stayed focused on the table, his glare acidic.

"Hello, Mr. Zwingli." Alice said, walking into the room.

" _Warum bin ich hier?_ " Vash asked, looking ready to kill. " _Lüg mich auch nicht, Schlampe._ "

Alice glared at him. "May I remind you that I'm a police officer? Getting on my bad side isn't really in your best interest, **_arschloch_**." She took the seat across from Vash. "Sir, do you know these two women?" She slid pictures of Isabelle Blackwater and Olivia Forester across the table.

" _Nein._ "

 ** _"Liar!"_** Alice yelled, slamming her hand on the table. She was sick and tired of his nonchalant, lying, conceited bastard-like attitude. "We have footage from the Fox and Goblin that shows you had been involved with the two girls for at least six months."

Vash just stared blankly at her.

Alice settled back into her seat. "What was your relationship with Isabelle and Olivia?"

Vash paused for a moment. "We were in a _ménage à trois_."

Alice froze completely. The blood rushed to her face in a flurry. _Is he fucking kidding me?_ "I see." Alice tried to keep her face emotionless. "And when did that...arrangement start?"

"Almost a year ago." Vash grumbled. "Isabelle was zinking of breaking it off, zough."

"When did she tell you and Olivia this?" Alice asked.

"Two weeks ago, Tuesday." Vash said. "Can I leave now?"

"No." Alice hissed, "Why did Isabelle want to break it off?"

"It repulsed her." Vash said. "She was religious, zought what we were doing was a sin."

 _Yet she let it carry on for almost a year._ "What did you and Olivia do?" Alice asked.

"We said we'd talk about again next week, after Isabelle cooled off."

"But she never showed up," Vash nodded. "And Olivia died soon after, didn't she?" He nodded again.

Alice stared at Vash for a long while before she said anything. "Mr. Zwingli," She paused. Was this really a good idea? "This...Is the knife that Isabelle and Olivia were killed with." She pulled out one of the Mafia knives and slid it onto the table.

It all happened in a matter of seconds.

A flash of silver. **_BANG! BANG!_** Ear-pounding screaming. Blood. Darkness.

 **Translation:**

 _Où allons-nous?_ = Where are we going?

 _Alo!_ = Hello!

 _E iubitul tău secret?_ = Is it your secret lover?

 _Încântat de cunoștință._ = Nice to meet you.

 _Mon Dieu_ = My God.

 _Bine! Bine! Ma predau._ = Fine! Fine! I surrender.

 _Alors, que voulez-vous que je fasse?_ = So, what do you want me to do?

 _Sur ce, ma reine!_ = On it, my Queen!

 _Warum bin ich hier?_ = Why am I here?

 _Lüg mich auch nicht, Schlampe._ = Don't lie to me, bitch.

 _Arshloch =_ Asshole.

 _Nien. =_ No.


	16. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

"Alice...Alice?"

"What?" She snapped out of her daydream and back to Alfred. He said nothing, just squeezing her hand as hard as he possibly could without hurting her. She didn't mind, really. The pain reminded her that she was, in fact, still alive. Giant, clear blobs gushed from behind Alfred's already bloodshot eyes. He'd been in this state for the past hour or so since Alice had woken up.

"H-He nearly..." Alfred took in a shaky, boogery breath. "That **_son of a bitch_** nearly k-killed you. He-He nearly...Nearly t-took you away..."

Alice gave him a half-hearted smile. It was too painful to move. Even with the doctor's billion and five pills, it still felt as if red-hot pokers had taken the bullets' place. The pain seared, taking up nearly her full attention. Fuck. "I'm fine, Alfie." She grabbed him and pulled him into a weak embrace. It helped that he didn't try to pull away. "...I-I'm okay."

 _I'm okay...I'm okay...I'm okay...I'm okay._ Alice repeated the mantra in her head. She was okay. She wasn't dead. It hurt like a mother, but she was alive and no one else had gotten hurt. That's what mattered, right?

 ** _"You're not okay."_** Alfred growled, but then softened up again. "It's all my fault. I should've had my guys check him better, I should've been in there with you, I-"

"Shut up, Alfred. It wasn't anybody's fault, but that Swiss cheese bastard." There was no venom in her voice, surprisingly. "And besides, you should have more faith in me..." She managed a weak grin. "I promised that I wouldn't disappear on you again, didn't I?" She didn't notice the tears spilling over her eyes until they dropped onto her clothes.

"Yeah." Alfred let out a shaky breath and his figure relaxed, but he didn't let go of her. "Yeah."

"Hand me your phone, will you?" Alice said. Alfred gave her the phone, not asking.

A thick Russian accent crackled over the line. "Alfred? Why are you calling me at work?"

"Braginski." Alice said, ignoring Alfred's shocked face. "Can you come over to the St. Rose Hospital? I took a bit of a blow today at work and your moronic boyfriend has been sitting here for at least a full eight hours. Bring some junk food." She hung up.

"Alice!" Alfred hissed at her. "You know he's busy."

"But I'm right, aren't I?" Alice raised an eyebrow at her childhood friend. "When was the last time you ate?"

Alfred scowled at her.

"That's what I thought." She gave him a sly grin. "Besides, I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't mind any sort of excuse to be with you."

"Shut up..." Alfred muttered half-heartedly, his face on fire.

The Englishwoman paused for a brief moment. "Did you tell them?" Her brothers and sister.

"I told them you had an emergency overnight trip to Blackpool and didn't remember to tell them." Alfred huffed. "I figured you didn't want them to know."

"Thanks." Alice nodded. She didn't need any more drama back at the house than there already was. "What happened after Zwingli shot me?"

Alfred's expression darkened. **_"I threw his ass in jail after I gave him the ass whoopin' of two lifetimes."_**

"Your boyfriend's a fucking lawyer and you're a cop. You can't just do that." Alice hissed at him, giving him a weak whack on the head.

Alfred ignored her. "Francy-pants went with you into the ambulance and stayed here with you for most of the time but he had to leave because of his kid."

Alice hummed. "How long have I been in this damn place?" She glared around the room. Alice hated hospitals. Hated the crisp, poisonous smells. Hated the needles, the endless bottles of medication and pill. She hated everything. Alice had spent more than enough years in bloody hospitals and she didn't plan to stay for much longer than two days.

"Eighteen hours." Alfred said, "And don't worry about the hospital bill, the company pays for it."

"Barely." Alice huffed. "And I'm pretty damn sure they take money out of my paycheck. I have to get out of here."

 ** _"No!"_** Alfred stood, desperate anger etched into his face. "You're not healed, yet. You can't leave!"

"I've got to, Alfred." Alice sighed, sitting upwards. Electrifying pain stabbed through her body. She yelped, left hand shooting to her right arm. "Fuck." She wheezed heavily, sweat dripping from her forehead.

"See?" Alfred said, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Don't move, you'll just hurt yourself even more. 'Kay?" She just grunted and focused her mind on Alfred's hand.

XXX

Two days later, Alice was released from the hospital.

Mainly because she kept giving the staff death glares, but that was unimportant. The doctor said that she should go home and take time off from work for at least six months. "Not bloody likely." Alice huffed, entering her house. "I leave for five minutes and the whole world is falling apart. I'm going back to work tomorrow, whether Alfred bloody likes it or not."

Abandoned.

That was the first thing that Alice noticed when she entered her home. It was quiet and dark. She usually saw it that way, nowadays, with all the work she had on her plate. It had a different feel to it, though. Her siblings had always been home before, even if they were passed out on the couch, dead drunk. That was just home. The house was empty, she soon discovered, finding a note on the fridge saying that her brothers and sister had gone drinking.

"If they knew what happened...what would they have done?" Alice murmured to herself, staring at the note. "If I tell them, what will they do?" She wasn't going to, of course, but she still liked to imagine how dramatic they might act. Like how it always was in the books, the sufferings of the martyr are discovered and there's a sudden, emotional realization. The martyr becomes a hero and is excepted and loved by everyone around them.

What a load of poppycock.

"If anything, they'd go out drinking." Alice huffed to herself, crumbled up the note and threw it into the garbage. She pulled out some of Dylan's lamb stew from the fridge. He was the only one, in the entire centuries long history of Kirklands, that could actually cook worth something. A miracle, really. She warmed up a bowl of stew and set to work on making a cup of tea.

She'd need it.

While the food was cooking, Alice grabbed her case files and brought them down to the kitchen table. She had notes written full of discreet messages of symbols, poetry and Latin. Wonderful. She also had several witnesses to testify that Vash Zwingli was involved with the two girls, and he'd been defensive all the way through questioning until he saw the knife.

A deep shudder racked through her body.

That flash of silver, the deafening click, that explosion of burning agony. "Fuck." She hissed out, taking a huge swig of her tea, not caring how it boiled her insides as it sloshed down her throat. Anything to distract her. Alice looked back at the papers. It would be fair to say that Vash Zwingli was the culprit.

He had reasons, he had weapons and he had the skill.

 _If ye've go' everythin' line'd up in a row, ye be thinken, why 'tis it? Why 'tis it no'?_ Is what her father had said to her.

In other words, _'If he seems guilty, look for ways he shouldn't be guilty. Work backwards.'_

First off, she needed to find out if Vash knew other languages besides English and German. Second, she still needed to talk to Antonio and Lovino about the man that gave her the note. And finally third, Alice needed to revisit Mr. Zwingli.

Laughter boomed through the house suddenly as her drunken brothers and sister barreled down the hall. Alice sighed. "Better go get the painkillers and water."

Patrick collapsed into the kitchen, shouting mad curses and seemingly threatening a random vase by the kitchen table. "I'm a gonna-*hiccup*-gonna kick y-yer ass, ye bluuuuuuudy biiiiiiitch!" He pulled back his arm ready to punch the glass vase.

Before Alice could jump forward to stop him, Wilma dashed in front of him, holding her arms out. "Ye can't! Ye can't, I loooooooooooooooooove him, Pattyyyyyy!"

"Oh God," Alice slapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from bursting out laughing.

"Nae, Willy!" Patrick slurred, pointing at the innocent vase. "Ye can't marryyyyyyyy a man you just meeeeeeeeeeet!"

 ** _"IT'S TRUE LOVE!"_** Alistair suddenly burst... _Was he crying?!_

"Alice~!" Dylan cried, rushing towards her. How the hell did he manage that in a wheelchair? "You're back~! I missed you sooooooooooooooooooooo much! Why did you leave me?!"

"Dylan, what are you talking about? I've been around for years." Alice asked, raising an eyebrow. It was really useless to talk to a drunk, but getting Dylan drunk was a rare thing.

"No, siiiillllly~!" Dylan slurred, not letting go of her. "Why did you leave us? Why did you leave after papa diiied?"

She stiffened. "I said I'd tell you later, Dylan. Why don't you go on up to bed, yeah?"

"Nooooo!" Wilma wailed, forgetting her true love for a moment and latching herself onto Alice's leg. "Ye'll dissssssapear again!"

Alice felt as though an iron hand were squeezing the life out of her heart. "I-"

"Maybe she should juuuuuus' high 'ail I' ou' a here." Patrick hissed at her. "Ye obviioussslly don' be wan'en here, she shood jus' stay away!"

Another squeeze. "Patrick, let's get you to bed."

"Nae!" He protested, swaying slightly. "Ye shud be te one leavin'! Run away! Jus' like ye always bluudy do!" Wilma and Dylan had released her already and were watching the banter get shot between Irishman and Englishwoman, even if it was one-sided.

"Fine." Alice's voice seemed to pierce the silence. "I'll leave...After you go to bed." She marched forward and clutched Patrick's wrist, releasing the anger she had towards herself onto him. She pulled Patrick up to his room and forced him onto the bed.

" ** _Stay._** " Alice gave him a quick glare before going downstairs and pulling Wilma to her shared room with Patrick. She closed the bedroom door and went to fetch Dylan and Alistair.

"Alice, you came back~!" Dylan sobbed, latching onto her again. "Why do you keep going?" She said nothing and just rolled him up the ramps that they'd installed a few years ago. "Wheeeeee~!" Dylan giggled as Alice pushed him up the ramp. Getting Dylan into bed was easy, Alistair was going to be the tough one.

"Hey, Alistair?" Alice cooed softly, rubbing her older brother's back in comfort. She'd found him crouched up in a corner, not making any noise, which was worse than any kind of tantrum. "It's time to go to bed, Alistair."

"Ah dinnae wantae." Alistair sulked.

"Why not?" She felt like she was talking to a two-year-old.

"'Cause ye'll be gone again." Alistair replied. "Seriously, dae ye wan' tae stay or tae go, bunny?"

Her heart felt like it was suffocating. Alistair hadn't used her old nickname since she was twelve. Alice sat down next to Alistair. "...Do you want me to go?" There was no way he'd remember this conversation; he was so damn hammered.

"Ahhhhhh dinnae ken, lassie." Alistair groaned. "If ah ask ye tae stay, ye'll bluudy leave again, 'n' if ah ask ye tae stay..."

"...Alistair?" She looked down. He'd fallen asleep. Alice sighed and picked his body up. She half dragged him up the stairs, grunting. How many bloody bricks did this idiot have in his pocket?! She nearly threw him onto his bed, but he still didn't wake up.

"If you'd ask me to stay," Alice muttered, giving them a last glance. "I'd never leave again."


	17. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

It wasn't long after she'd put her siblings to bed that she'd gotten a phone call.

It was Lovino. He and Antonio had arrived in Britain, and guess where they arranged to meet her at?

A fucking haunted asylum with a tower.

"You have serious mental issues." Alice glared at Lovino and Antonio.

" _Sí, pero él es mi psico!_ " Antonio's emerald eyes fucking glittered.

Alice just stared at him in disgust, watching Lovino sputter and try to hide his bright red face. "Just give-a me-a the-a note, _ragazza_." She gave him the three letters.

"A man gave me them on the dirigible," Alice said. "He was lanky and dark freckles, thick American accent, too."

"This man?" Antonio asked, giving her a picture.

"That's him."

"Johnny Tucker. He's dead."

"What?" Alice's jaw went slack. "When?"

"Last week, suicide." Antonio grimaced. "Hanged himself in his room."

"So he killed himself after he delivered the letter?"

Antonio nodded. "He'd been slightly distant the past couple of weeks." He continued, "But we never thought much about it. He was known for having the occasional mood swings."

Alice resisted the large urge to smack her forehead. "Does he have any family?" They shook their head. "Fucking hell, did you get any pictures of the scene?"

" _Se podría privar a un hombre muerto de su dignidad?_ " Antonio hissed at her.

"Clearly he didn't have enough dignity to keep himself alive." She glared. "And besides, I doubt it was suicide."

" _¿Qué?_ " At the same time, Lovino said, " _Pensi che sia stato ucciso?_ "

Alice nodded. "When I talked to him, he'd said something about working for someone else. Someone else besides this nutter." She casually pointed to Antonio with her thumb.

"I'm sorry," Antonio snorted. "Were you the one that knew Johnny for most of his life?"

"If you're going to be a smartass, first you need to be smart. Otherwise, you're just an ass." Alice shot back.

"Why, you little _perra_ -!" Lovino grabbed his husband's wrist before he could do anything.

"What makes you think it was murder?"

"You said he had mood swings for a couple of weeks, probably longer than normal usual, right?" Alice continued, "The bags under his eyes meant he wasn't getting good sleep, which means either insomnia or he was meeting up with someone."

"The killer." Lovino said.

"Now, you're catching on." She turned to them. "So, gentlemen, why would your cowboy-pirate have anything to do with my mass murderer?"

"Lover, maybe?" Antonio shrugged. "Johnny was gay."

Alice shook her head. "Not likely. Lovers give each other trinkets, to show off how in love they are. It takes the same amount of time to get close enough to want to shower a person with love as it does to want to kill them. Next option?"

"Long-time grudge?"

"Mmm, no." She started pacing back and forth. "Something like that would've shown through. Cowboy would've told you, he seemed liked he trusted you two enough. And that leaves..."

An awkward pause seemed to surround them in a sort of bubble.

"Debt."

"Debt? Johnny wasn't-a low on-a money, he always had some sort-a of greenbacks with him." Lovino said.

"Doesn't have to be money." Alice looked at him. "I saved your brother and Ludwig, didn't I?"

"We'll-a get you all the-a information we-a can on Tucker." Lovino nodded. "Anything else?"

"Zwingli." She pointed to her arm. "He shot me twice after I showed him the dagger."

" _Merda! Che deficiente del cazzo._ " Lovino growled, smacking his forehead a few times. "What the-a hell-a happened?"

Alice shrugged. "They threw him in jail and it's not looking too good for him." She continued, "I need a list of every person in the world that's had one of those daggers, not just Britain. Otherwise, Swiss-cheese is going to have a hell of a time getting out."

" _Sì, sì_." Antonio nodded. " _Estaremos en contacto._ "

XXX

The Englishwoman unlocked the front door and stepped into the drafty apartment.

She didn't bother taking off her clothes or shoes, collapsing on the old couch in the living room. It creaked and groaned, probably pleading for mercy and just wishing someone would throw the damn thing out after fifteen years. Alice rubbed her face, tiredly. Fucking hell, she just wished all of this was over.

Why'd she even become a homicide detective?

Her father's face ran through her mind. Right. For him.

"I need a drink." Alice got up to the kitchen, body groaning for exhaustion. Patrick always had an extra glass or two of whiskey around.

"Where the bluudy hella have youuu been?" Alice looked down. Alistair sat on the kitchen floor, an empty bottle of ale in his hand. He glared up at her with bloodshot eyes, a slight trickle of vomit on the side of his mouth.

"You should be asleep." Alice said, taking the bottle from his hand. A pungent wave of vomit, piss and ale slammed into her. Her free hand shot up to her nose in an attempt to block the smell. Alice threw the bottle away. "How long were you up?"

The Scotsman just sulked. "I asked ye te bluudy question fiiiiirst." His head bobbed a bit.

"I had an errand to run."

" _Cén fáth?_ " Patrick stumbled downstairs, Wilma pushing Dylan along, too. He hadn't sobered up, no, any proper Irishman came out of his mother drunk and ready for the nearest bar fight. Patrick was just a little less drunk.

"Just work stuff."

"Nae," Patrick hissed at her, jabbing a pale finger in her direction. " _Cén fáth didja teacht ar ais, ye bollix?_ "

"What are you blabbing on about?" Alice asked, not exactly all that irritated that he'd called her a bollix. She'd heard it plenty of times before. "This is my home, dumb-ass."

"Nae, tis ain't." Wilma hissed at her darkly. " _Má cheap tú i ndáiríre go raibh sé do bhaile, ba mhaith leat atá riamh d'fhág. Ní bheadh tú a d'fhág dúinn má cúram tú._ "

Alice felt like something was stabbing her repeatedly in the chest. The medications for the bullet wounds had worn off. "That's not true." She could barely protest. How did she not notice the pain before? Was it just the wound or something else? "Dylan?"

He just looked at her blankly. "You're always actin' so high an' mighty. Oh, look at you, you're the only one in the house with a stable job. Oh, you take just after _tad_." He mocked Alice, his voice pitch raised until it wounded squeaky.

"High and mighty?" Alice scoffed.

She didn't even realize that Alastair had left and then come back down from the stair until he shoved a case in front of her. "What's-"

"Ye're bag. Now leave."

 **Translations:**

 _Sí, pero él es mi psico!_ = Yes, but he's my psycho!

 _Ragazza_ = Girl.

 _Se podría privar a un hombre muerto de su dignidad?_ = And deprive a dead man of his dignity?

 _¿Qué?_ = What?

 _Pensi che sia stato ucciso?_ = Do you think he was killed?

 _Perra_ = Bitch.

 _Merda! Che deficiente del cazzo._ = Shit! What a fucking idiot!

 _Sì, sì_. = Yes, yes.

 _Estaremos en contacto._ = We'll be in touch.

 _Cén fáth?_ = Why?

 _Cén fáth didja teacht ar ais, ye bollix?_ = Why didja come back, ye bollix?

 _Má cheap tú i ndáiríre go raibh sé do bhaile, ba mhaith leat atá riamh d'fhág. Ní bheadh tú a d'fhág dúinn má cúram tú._ = If you really thought that it was your home, you would've never left. You would not have left us if you care.

 _Tad_ = Dad.


	18. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Alice was numb.

Her own siblings had kicked her out of her house. Her home. Everything was cold, and wet, at trembling around her. She had nothing to keep her warm except her worn down, old trench coat. The case that Alastair had tossed at her was her violin case. She suspected he couldn't tell the difference because of how drunk he was.

Her warm, salty tears mixed with the rain.

She was somewhat glad for that. She may be homeless, without food and clothing, but at least she still had her dignity.

Alice had planned on just going back to her work and sleeping in her office, but it was closed.

She'd wandered some more and then she was lost. Alice didn't have her cellphone, so she couldn't call Alfred. And she had no money for a payphone, either. She'd just have to tough it out until morning and then she could-

"Alice?"

She looked up, face still covered in tears and rain. Not like she gave a shit. "...Francis?"

XXX

After he'd found her shivering on the streets, Francis immediately brought her back to his house.

He'd given her hot _chocolat_ and one very large blanket. She was hardly talking, and didn't bother explaining to him why she was out on the streets with nothing but a violin case. He didn't have the heart to push her about it, anyway. Alice was crying in that rain.

He knew her long enough to know that she would never admit to that, not even over her dead body. Whatever it was, it had to be serious. More so than any gunshot wound or two. Speaking of that.

" _Alice, que je peux voir le où vous avez été blessé?_ " She nodded mutely and took off the blanket and her coat. She didn't even have enough strength to call him wanker or frog. Surprisingly.

The bandaged were haggard and torn. The wound had reopened. " _Avez-vous dans un combat?_ " His voice was harsher than he'd meant it to come out.

Alice flinched away from him. " _Pardon, pardon_." He apologized. " _Pouvez-vous s'il vous plaît laissez-moi le vois? Je promets que je ne vais pas vous faire de mal._ "

Reluctantly, she let him come closer.

He slowly took of the bandages, his heart clenching as the bloody wound in her shoulder was unveiled. " _Je suis désolé. Je suis tellement, tellement, tellement désolée._ " He felt the huge wave of guilt seep into his chest.

" _Il est la faute de personne, mais de Vash._ " Alice whispered softly. " _Merci...Pour aller avec moi à l'hôpital...Et merci à vous, de me prendre dans._ "

"I'm your assistant," Francis gave her a half-hearted grin. "It's my job to help you. Come on, let's get you to bed."

Alice nodded mutely, following him to a bedroom. It was small, smaller than her room back at the apartment. "Zis is ze only room zat I have besides Matthew's, so…" He scratched the back of head, sheepishly.

Alice shook her head. "You already did too much. I'll sleep in the living room."

" _Non, non, non!_ " Francis shook his head. "I've already told you before zat a lady should not sleep on ze couch."

"You already saved me from being homeless." Alice said, "I'm not going to take your bed away from you."

Francis huffed. "Zen sleep wiz me." He watched her face blow up red. "Ohonhonhonhonhon~ You have such a dirty mind, _mon chéri_." Her face turned even more red, if that was even possible.

"...Like back in Venice?" Was all Alice muttered, looking away.

Francis wondered who he was looking at. Where was the strong, confident woman who didn't take shit from anyone? Where was woman who could scare murderers and rapists into bawling babies? " _Oui_ , just like in Venice." He missed her. He missed the cantankerous, clever, and slave-driving boss of his.

He missed Alice.

 **Translations:**

 _Chocolat_ = Chocolate.

 _Alice, que je peux voir le où vous avez été blessé?_ = Alice, can I see where you're injured?

 _Avez-vous dans un combat?_ = Did you get into a fight?

 _Pardon, pardon_. = Sorry, sorry.

 _Pouvez-vous s'il vous plaît laissez-moi le vois? Je promets que je ne vais pas vous faire de mal._ = Can you please let me see? I promise I won't hurt you.

 _Je suis désolé. Je suis tellement, tellement, tellement désolée._ = I am sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry.

 _Il est la faute de personne, mais de Vash._ = It's nobody's fault but Vash.

 _Merci...Pour aller avec moi à l'hôpital...Et merci à vous, de me prendre dans._ = Thank you ... For going with me to the hospital ... And thank you, for taking me in.

 _Non, non, non!_ = No, no, no!

 _Mon chéri_ = My Dear.

 _Oui_ = Yes.


	19. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

The morning was bright and cheery, despite the weather yesterday.

The sky had cleared up about as much as you could expect the factory riddled city to be. Francis woke up earlier than Alice and was already in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. It wasn't that she was a lazy guest. She'd asked if he wanted any help, but Alice was promptly shooed out of the kitchen.

" _Voulez-vous jouer pour moi?_ " Francis asked, smiling at the pouting woman on his sofa. She raised an eyebrow at him. "It's been a while since I last heard _musique_ , _mon chéri_. _S'il vous plaît?_ "

Alice paused for a moment. She honestly had nothing else better to do, and besides, she hadn't had the time to play the past week. "Won't your son mind?"

"Matthew loves _musique_." Francis smiled wistfully. "It's one of ze few zings he enjoys."

Alice bent down to her violin case. A sizzling wave of nostalgia flushed through her. It was her father's violin. He had given it to her for her birthday. The rich, dark brown wood shined in the sunlight. Elegant, Celtic knots were curved in the sides. A large 'K' initial was carved in the back, curling at the ends of the lines. The violin was nearly a hundred years old. She clipped on the shoulder rest, and rosined her bow. "Any particular kind of music?" Alice asked.

Francis smiled. "Anyzing will do."

Bow met strings, and music danced through the apartment.

Memories flooded into Alice's mind. She remembered playing the violin alongside her father every Sunday. His bright red, flaming hair would glow in the light. His giant hands would hold the bow delicately, but securely, playing with graceful confidence. The fingers at the neck of the violin would dance around and flit around quickly.

But most of all, she remembered the large, happy grin that was always on his face.

Alice's nose prickled slightly. Memories of her father played through her head. His robust laugh would fill the whole apartment building, sending joy and bright light wherever it went.

Alice's own smile began to grew, though she couldn't feel it, she was too lost in the music.

But Francis could.

Breakfast was completely forgotten as the Frenchman gaped at the woman before him.

Her bright, leaf-green eyes twinkled with excitement and... Pure love. It was something he'd never seen from her before. It sent pleasant shivers down his spine. Alice's arms moved smoothly, despite the bullet wounds in her shoulder. Her posture was confident and filled with elegance. The golden light coming in from the windows surrounded her hair in a golden light, framing her face.

She was an angel.

It was over all too quickly, and the magic faded into memory.

Alice looked up at him, sheepishly. "I know, it sounds bad. I haven't gotten to practice in a week."

" _Non!_ " Francis cut her off a little too quickly. " _Il sonnait belle! Je ne l'ai jamais entendu quelque chose comme ça de toute ma vie._ "

Her face flooded cherry red, "T-Thank you."

A little boy stood in the living room, but Francis and Alice didn't notice him until he started clapping softly. "Matthew!" Francis cried, surprised.

The little boy had soft, rich violet-blue eyes. His curly, blonde hair was still messy from sleeping, and his skin was pale. Matthew carried a white stuffed toy in his arms, a polar bear. A soft smile covered his face.

 **Translations:**

 _Voulez-vous jouer pour moi?_ = Will you play for me?

 _Musique_ , _mon chér_. _S'il vous plaît?_ = Music, my Dear. Please?

 _Musique_ = Music.

 _Il sonnait belle! Je ne l'ai jamais entendu quelque chose comme ça de toute ma vie._ = It sounded beautiful! I've never heard anything like that in my life.


	20. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

"I'm going to work."

" _Non._ " Matthew watched silently as papa used his stern voice. He only used that when Matthew got in trouble, like that time when he ate a cookie before dinner last month. Matthew didn't get to eat dessert for two days. Papa was rarely stern. He spoiled Matthew, he knew. It must've been important if papa used his stern voice. "You can't go to work, yet. You're still hurt, _mon chéri_."

Matthew didn't understand a bit of English, but when he called the pretty woman _mon chéri_ , his head shot up. The little boy gaped. Papa never called anyone _mon chéri_ besides him. Not even the other ladies that papa went on dates with.

Papa had bad taste in ladies.

As much as he loved his father, Matthew knew that he was hopeless when it came to finding an actual nice woman. His papa liked to date the "pretty" ladies. Well, they were pretty to some people, but not to Matthew. They wore too much makeup; so much so that they looked like they were walking cakes. They were mean, too. When papa wasn't around, they would say mean things and snarl at him. Matthew didn't understand English or anything else besides French, but he could tell by their tone of voice.

Matthew liked Alice. This lady was different. She was special, he could tell. She didn't wear lots and lots of makeup, like the other ladies. She knew how to play the violin, really, really well, which was a bonus. And plus, she wasn't constantly touching papa in weird places, like Matthew wasn't there, watching.

She said something to papa in English, bright as a cherry, while frowning and nodding her head.

Papa smiled and Matthew saw Alice go red, again. He bent down to Matthew's level. " _Alice est une gentille dame et mon ami, mais elle est blessée, si elle va rester ici avec vous aujourd'hui, ok?_ " Matthew nodded slightly, smiling in reassurance at his papa. His papa always worried too much. Francis smiled, scrambling up Matthew's hair. " _Voilà un bon garçon. Je te vois quand je rentre à la maison._ " He kissed Matthew on the head, said something to the violin lady and then left.

Silence seeped into the room.

Alice tried not to fidget. At least, not visibly. Alice liked kids, surprisingly. She always thought they were better than adults. And especially teenagers. Teenagers thought that they knew more than anyone else. Adults weren't much different, except they vote. Kids were much better. They were innocent and always eager to learn more about their world. She just didn't really do well with kids, they all seemed to think she was scary.

Actually, never mind, pretty much everyone was scared of her.

Matthew was looking up at her. No sense of fear could be found in his bright eyes. His eyes… They looked so much like Francis'. She nearly snorted. That moron seriously trusted her of all people to take care of his son? The babysitter rates must be pretty high, nowadays. " _Qu'Est-ce que c'est?_ " Alice asked, trying her best **_not_** to sound menacing. It was different for her. Usually, she was scaring the shit out of people.

He smiled. Matthew pointed to a French flag in the corner of the room on the wall, and then at his mouth.

"Ah, _oui_." Alice nodded after a while, getting the gist of what he was saying. " _Je parle français. Y at-il quelque chose que vous voulez faire?_ " The little boy didn't hesitate. He pointed to Alice's violin case. She raised an eyebrow. " _Vous voulez que je joue pour vous?_ "

He nodded again.

Alice couldn't help the soft smirk that made its way to her face.

She took out the violin again and started playing all the French tunes she knew. There weren't that many, but she did live in France for a while. The little boy watched as the magic flew through the room again. She had pretty eyes. It was mesmerizing, watching her play. The way her hand moved the bow smoothly; the way her hand flitted across the black fingerboard; everything, was magical. Matthew was grinning brightly at her the whole time. He knew the songs. It felt like he was in France again, but with a slight touch. Something he couldn't name. Something special.

Alice paused finally after playing for him for a whole hour, nonstop. She watched his expression. It was filled with such wonder and excitement. She missed that. Alice remembered the glistening eyes of the crowd after she'd finished playing.

" _Il est un peu grosse, mais…_ " Alice continued, a small smile on her face. " _Aimeriez-vous apprendre à jouer du violon?_ "

XXX

When Francis returned home, he expected a lot of things.

He expected his son to turn into some sort of detective mastermind, sipping Earl Grey. He expected him to be screaming a bunch of English profanity and whatnot, with a perfect English accent and all.

He did not expect laughter.

The whole house was still held together, surprisingly, and it looked exactly like when he had left. Even the kitchen, amazingly. Francis found his son and Alice in Matthew's room, giggling loudly. Alice was holding a book, Matthew's favorite, Beauty and the Beast.

They didn't notice him yet, allowing him to let his heart run wild with emotions.

He was sure he was swooning, as he watched the woman he loved laugh and get along with his child, whom he loved more than anything in the world.

 **Translation:**

 _Non_ = No.

 _Mon chéri_ = My Dear.

 _Alice est une gentille dame et mon ami, mais elle est blessée, si elle va rester ici avec vous aujourd'hui, ok?_ = Alice is a nice lady and my friend, but she is injured, so she will stay here with you today, okay?

 _Voilà un bon garçon. Je te vois quand je rentre à la maison._ = That's a good boy. I'll see you when I get home.

 _Qu'Est-ce que c'est?_ = What is it?

 _Je parle français. Y at-il quelque chose que vous voulez faire?_ = I speak French. Is there something you want to do?

 _Vous voulez que je joue pour vous? =_ You want me to play for you?

 _Il est un peu grosse, mais…_ = It's a little big, but...

 _Aimeriez-vous apprendre à jouer du violon?_ = Would you like to learn how to play the violin?


	21. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

Francis managed to keep Alice away from work for three days, and it was driving the woman crazy.

Alice liked being with Francis and Matthew, though she'd never admit that out loud. Especially, not to Francis. She didn't call him bad names or cuss him out, even though Matthew couldn't understand English. She just didn't have the heart to. Francis loved using that to his advantage and it infuriated her.

It made her think.

Thinking wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Thinking about the past, however was. For the first time in a while, Alice thought about him. She remembered her ex-fiancé. She'd been too busy with work and family to properly think about him for a year or two. Alice watched Francis and Matthew cook in kitchen together. They laughed and smiled at one another, Francis speaking French and Matthew responding in his own playful way. They were each covered in quite a bit of flour from the battle they had had earlier. They were making pancakes, Matthew's favorite.

Alice watched, smiling, but her insides felt like they were being torn apart.

It wasn't their fault, God, no. She was just overthinking things, she knew that. But with no work or liquor or even fag (cigar) to keep her busy, she couldn't help thinking about the past. About him. She thought about the day they first got together.

 _Her dress was torn. She was pissed, tired and sweaty. "Stupid Spanish fucker." She growled, kicking a vase that lay on the ground. It was somehow not smashed, even after the place had been raided by sky pirates._

 _Alice was pretty sure that no one had gotten hurt, but the place was fucking trashed. There was no way they were going to get paid, now. "I swear if I see him again, I'll -"_

 _"_ _Alice!" There he was. Her conductor. He stood in front of her, panting and looking positively disheveled. And yet the wanker still managed to look completely ravishing to her. "Are you all right? I saw you with that pirate. Did the bastard do anything?"_

 _She was blushing. "Ah, err, yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just a little…messy." She suddenly felt horrible in her ruined dress. Good Lord, she was an idiot. "Um, are you okay?" She was cut off by warm lips. Oh. Maybe she'd thank that stupid pirate later._

It was her first kiss, actually. It was pathetic and cheesy, but she wouldn't deny that she loved every minute of it at the time. Alice wouldn't forget the first time they told each other that they loved each other. As painful as it was, she knew she could never truly forget it.

 _He growled, his face practically buried in his papers. "I just don't get it. Why can't I think of anything?!"_

 _"_ _Because you're mentally constipated." Alice rolled her eyes. "You've been pouring over that paper for over three hours. It's bloody ridiculous, really. Go outside for a bit, something will come to you."_

 _"_ _No." He muttered stubbornly. "I'm not going until I've written something!"_

 _An idea popped into her head. "Hey, look at me." Her boyfriend looked up at her, eyebrow raised impatiently. She kissed him. It was slow and gentle. Nothing was rushed. Well, until she ran her tongue over his lip._

 _He shot back, bright red and embarrassed. "Wh-Wh-What? Why?"_

 _Alice smiled, probably a little red, too. "I love you."_

 _He went even redder, if that was even possible. "I-I-I…" He eventually gave up on trying to say anything. He looked up and said to her, shyly. "I have an idea." And she knew. He loved her too._

But she remembered the bad times, too. She remembered how the closer and closer wedding date came, the more on edge her fiancé became. Alice had brushed it off as just nerves. She should've known. He hadn't been ready for that kind of commitment. He showed that to her by fucking their soprano right in her hotel room. Alice had hated him for so long. Even still, she couldn't help but wonder.

What if he had been ready? What if she'd forgiven him and they had tried again? Would they still be travelling around the world or would they have settled down like every other couple? Would she have been a mother right now?

"Alice?" Francis voice echoed from the kitchen. He was watching her with a concerned look. "Are you all right?"

She looked up and smirked at him. "Worried, Frog?" Alice watched his cheeks turn pink. Her heart pounded from inside her rib cage. It was a stupid muscle, but sometimes it was better than her brain. And right now, the stupid muscle said that it was okay. She was here now and she was happy.


	22. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

Alas, one the fifth day, Alice got a call from Alfred.

There was another murder.

It was a woman who had just come back from her business trip in Greece. Her innards were scattered everywhere in her office, with the letter 'V' painted on her head with her own blood. Her name was Vanessa Lorelei. She was a prominent CEO of an automobile manufacturing company and a mother of three. She had no connection to the Fox and Goblin, but she had green eyes and greying blonde hair.

Alice didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't help it.

All the victims had had green eyes and blonde hair. Were all these killings a way to contact her? By the same person who had killed Johnny and given her those letters, presumably. Alice felt the chilling river of fear flow through her.

Would she be next?

Alice and Francis were on their way to see the family, since Alfred had gotten friends and business partners.

Honestly, Alice would've traded nearly anything to be in Alfred's position instead. She hated going to the families. The trip was always full of crying and wailing, and there was nothing she could say to help console them. It reminded her too much of when her father had died. He had died from old age, living to a ripe age of eighty-two. They'd known for a while that he was going to die, but it didn't help matters once he'd left.

The little blue cottage sat in a small yard, surrounded by flowers. It looked so small and happy, even though it was surrounded in nasty, smog filled London. It looked as though it had been pulled out of a story book.

Vanessa's mother's house. Vanessa wasn't married, so her children stayed with their grandmother while she was away in Greece.

Alice took a deep breath, glancing at Francis. "You don't have to come in if you don't want to. I understand."

" _Non_ ," Francis sighed, looking at the house. "I'll help you."

She was too grateful to argue. Alice knocked on the cottage door, trying to ignore the knot that was curling in her chest. An old woman answered. She looked frail, tiny even, in her big flower-patterned gown. "Chelsea Lorelei?" Alice asked.

"Yes? How can I help you?" She responded, glancing between Alice and Francis.

"I'm Detective Kirkland, and this is my partner, Francis Bonnefoy. May we come in? We'd like to talk to you about your daughter, Vanessa Lorelei."

Even the inside of the cottage was small and filled with adorable trinkets. The gold and copper gears in the clock creaked and groaned heavily. A fat, dark brown cat sat in the corner, eyeing the two with yellow eyes. Alice didn't notice the metal legs on Chelsea until she started walking.

She felt her mood dampen even more than you thought it could. Her family couldn't afford legs for Dylan, otherwise he might still have been working. Family… Alice tried to call home a few times every day for the past four days, but still nothing.

She assumed that they just ignoring her, or too busy celebrating their newfound freedom by drinking their liver away in some godforsaken pub with cheap alcohol.

Had Alice really been that much of a burden? Ever since she came back from her travels in Europe, she's tried to do the best she could for them. Alice worked long hours to pay for the food, the bills and Patrick's blacksmith lessons… But she was never there.

She shook her head. She was on a job; she couldn't let personal things get in her way.

Chelsea took Francis and Alice to the kitchen. "Would you like some tea?" She asked. Alice felt like something pierced her stomach. Guilt. Chelsea looked like your typical, cheerful grandmother that would spoil you and stuff you with apple pies. But she was a mother, too.

Alice never had a mother, or even something close to a mother-figure in her life.

But she'd met mothers on her job. Some were terrible, some were horrifying, others were kind and cared for their child more than anything. But deep down, no matter how they may have felt about their child, they all understood that they were a part of them, of their soul.

Alice didn't want to be that person.

She didn't want to be the one to tell a mother that her child was dead.

"No, thank you, ma'am." Alice managed. She tried to keep her face as void of emotion as possible. "Ma'am, I… I think you should have a seat."

Chelsea saw Alice's face and didn't argue. "If this is about some copyright claim, again, I'll have you know that my Vanessa is-"

"It's not about your daughter's business, ma'am." Alice said softly. "Ma'am, are you aware that your daughter came back from Greece last night?"

Chelsea nodded, her sea blue eyes filled with confusion. "Yes, she called me yesterday afternoon. Said she would just stay at the office that night so she could surprise her boys."

Alice sucked in a large breath through her teeth. Her nose prickled slightly. "Ma'am, are the boys in the house?"

"No," Chelsea shook her head. "They're at school right now, will be for another hour or so."

"...There's no easy way to put this…" Alice started, glancing at Francis. She really wasn't that great with the consoling thing, she needed a fellow parents input. He just nodded at her, his face filled with wariness. "This morning… This morning your daughter was found in her office. She was murdered."

Silence… "What?" Chelsea asked, not even noticing the tears leaking down her wrinkled face. "What do you mean? No, no, not my Vanessa." She gave a nervous laugh as the tears continued to rain down from her eyes. She took another look at Alice's face.

A choked wail filled the small, cute, little innocent house in the middle of London.


	23. Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

Alice's trench coat was soaking wet with tears, but she couldn't seem to care.

Francis had gone ahead and made an herbal tea for Chelsea, but she hadn't even glanced at it. Alice just simply rubbed her back over and over, listening to the incoherent words that sputtered from Chelsea's mouth.

They'd been sitting there for a long time, and the boys would be home soon. "Do you want me to tell them?" Alice muttered quietly to Chelsea. She was too tired to scream anymore, but the tears still dripped out from the corners.

"No." She shook her head. "No… No… I'll tell them…"

"Are you sure?" Francis asked, his voice low and gentle.

Chelsea nodded. "I'll… be okay… My baby…" She sniffed up her boogers. "She'd want me to… To be strong for them."

"Gran?" Two twin boys walked into the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

Chelsea broke into another fit of sobs. Weakly, Alice glanced at Francis. He got the message.

"Max? Mason? Why don't you come upstairs wiz me?"

He took them away from their grandmother and up into their bedroom. "Why's gran crying?" Max glared at him, blue eyes filled with anger. He looked like an angrier, older version of his Matthew.

Francis bent down to their level, to look them straight in the eye. "Your grandmozer is crying because she's lost someone very important to her."

"Who?" The other little boy, Mason, asked. "Is it someone we know?"

His heartstrings pulled. "Your mozer… passed away zis morning."

"What?" Max eyes widened, but then he was angry again. "You're lying! Mom's just in Greece on a business trip."

"Yeah," Mason said. "She's coming back next week!"

"No, she's not." Francis looked at the little boys, then pulled them into a hug as the tears began to fall.

XXX

The walk back to Francis' apartment was gloomy.

They didn't talk, just kept on walking. The day kept replaying in their heads. " _Ils ressemblaient à Matthew…_ "

Alice nodded slightly. Then, she gave a humorless laugh. "Do you think they'll still stick together after this?"

" _Quoi?_ " Francis frowned at her. "I don't understand."

She sighed, stopping and looking up into the murky London sky. The smoke and exhaust swirled, a thick layer hiding the blue skies. "The death of a loved one sometimes pulls people apart, grief eating away at them, and before you know it...You're not a family, anymore. Or maybe… Maybe you just weren't a family in the first place."

Francis' frown deepened. "Somezing tells me you're not talking about ze Loreleis."

Alice stared into the sky for a long time. "I've made a terrible mistake." She could sense Francis' confusion. "I pushed them away. I pushed away the most important people in this world to me, and I'll never get a second chance." Tears flowed from her bright emerald eyes, but she made no move to stop them.

Francis' heart clenched as she kept on talking. "I-I… All I ever wanted-" Alice hiccupped lightly. "Was to make sure they were happy. Safe, but now-" Another hiccup. "I've lost them. They hate me and they don't want anything else to do with me!" Her whole body racked into sobs.

Francis flew to her, wrapping his arms around her, tightly. " _Il est normal... Il est normal... Je suis sûr que vous pouvez travailler sur tout ce qui est entre vous et votre famille._ "

"No. I can't." Alice leaned into him. "... I'm such a fucking coward! A coward that only runs away..."

" _Ma reine, vous êtes le plus fort, femme courageuse que je l'ai rencontré. En aucune manière, les sept derniers mois que nous avons connue l'autre, ai-je jamais pensé que vous étiez un lâche._ " Francis said, keeping her close to him, pouring his heart out to her.

She looked up, watching him with careful, blurry green eyes. Cautiously, Alice leaned up and whispered into his ear, and told him.

Alice uttered the ugly, dark words her father had whispered with his last breath.

 **Translations:**

 _Ils ressemblaient à Matthew…_ = They look like Matthew...

 _Quoi?_ = What?

 _Il est normal... Il est normal... Je suis sûr que vous pouvez travailler sur tout ce qui est entre vous et votre famille._ = It's okay ... It's okay ... I'm sure you can work on whatever is between you and your family.

 _Ma reine, vous êtes le plus fort, femme courageuse que je l'ai rencontré. En aucune manière, les sept derniers mois que nous avons connue l'autre, ai-je jamais pensé que vous étiez un lâche._ = My queen, you are the strongest, bravest woman I've met. In no way, the last seven months we've known each other, I never thought you were a coward.


	24. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

The next day, Alfred told her the news about Vash.

He'd committed suicide with a bottle of cyanide the night that they had gone to see Vanessa's family. Guilt churned in Alice's stomach. She didn't even get to tell him that he had been proven innocent by the fact that he was in jail at the time of Vanessa's murder. Isabelle, Olivia, Vanessa, and now Vash. Four innocent people were dead because Alice was too damn slow to save them.

On her desk, a yellow, torn piece of parchment paper lay.

Alice's hand shook as she picked it up. It was in German. The fucking bastard.

She stormed out of her office, elbowing people out of her way and muttering a long string of curses. She could care less about the whispers. Alice had a job to do, and she'd be damned if she didn't see a serial killer behind bars before the end of the month.

"Alfred, where's my bike?" She yelled, crashing into his office.

 ** _"_** ** _Aack!"_** The American yelped in surprise, jumping back and falling down onto the floor. Served him right. "What the hell, dudette?"

"My bike." was all she said.

He huffed at her. "It just got fixed. Do you seriously have to wreck it? Again."

Alice had broken her bike just before this new, poet serial killer case had happened. They had had a case about some business doing dirty things on the inside, and they couldn't manage to prove that their suspect was guilty, and was just about to get away. Then, Alice crashed the courtroom, carrying the evidence. Literally.

"It's my bike. And besides, my bosses pay for it." Alice waved her hand nonchalantly.

He rolled his eyes at her. "It's in the usual spot."

XXX

The silver and golden bars gleamed in the light, shiny like new.

The black leather material, and the tires smelt new, also. The bronze gears in the tires sparkled and hummed, ready for action. Blood red initials were sewed into the leather seat. **_BM_** , which stood for something along the lines of _BikeMaster_.

Alice preferred _Bloody Mary_.

The cold blast of London's air hit against Alice's face.

Winter was near, and they were already getting a bit of snow, already.

Had her siblings remembered to stock up foods? Dylan might've remembered, he was the only one who cooked. What about coats? Did they go waste all their money on department store coats, or did they go to the thrift store? Was Wilma still getting hit on? Patrick was still continuing his blacksmith lessons, right?

The library's roof was covered in a layer of snow, and as usual, wasn't busy.

"Alice!" Mira called from over the counter, spotting her cousin. "Not here wit your boyfriend, today?"

Alice huffed. "He's not my boyfriend. He's my assistant."

Mira just gave her a toothy grin. "I saw how you look at him. Gurl, we are so going to talk about tat."

Alice gave her cousin a glare before continuing on to the back of the library. She looked at the letter again, just to make sure it was German.

 _Vier Unschuldige gestorben sind,  
Hörst du die Kinder weinen?_

Four innocents have died,

Can you hear the children cry?

"That sick bastard." Alice hissed, glaring down at the paper. Her hands were trembling in rage. She barely managed to continue.

 _Sie suchen und finden,  
Du bist so nah, und doch ... so weit._

You search and search,

You're so close, and yet...so far.

Alice's heart stopped for just a moment. She's so close, but far? Close how? How far was she?

 _Wie ich grub meine Klinge in ihre Körper, wie es must've verletzen._

As I dug my blade into their bodies, how it must've hurt.

"Shit." A grimace settled onto her face.

 _Eine dunkle Lerche cooes über die London Himmel, Gesang den Tod für alle.  
Ich bin noch nicht fertig , doch kleine Hase ._

Alice felt her blood freeze. "...Mira?" Her hoarse voice whispered. "Mira!" Alice dashed from her seat to the counter in the lobby.

"Alice? What's wrong?" Her cousin frowned up at her.

"Phone." Alice hissed out. "Where's your phone?"

Vladimira didn't question Alice. She'd seen that look on her before. Concerned, worried, and royally pissed off. "Over there." She pointed to the old, black candlestick phone with rusty brass decorations. Alice's hand darted out desperately, quickly dialing the numbers as quick as she could. She needed to get to her family right away. "Damn it, damn it, damn it…"

A voice crackled on the other end. "I'm sorry, but it seems that this number is unreachable at this time."

Alice's body sagged. A growl bubbled from her throat. **_"They forgot to pay the fucking phone bill."_**


	25. Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Despite her rapid protests, Mira ended up dragging Alice out of the library and to a local cafe.

Luka Kohler (AN: Fem!Norway), Alice's other cousin, was waiting for them. She had been born in Norway, and met her husband, Matthias Kohler, in Denmark. When she discovered she had two cousins in London, Matthias practically dragged her all the way there. Luka usually was wearing a poker face, which helped when she was at her job. She was a banker.

"Lulu! Lulu! Guess what?" Mira kept bouncing up and down, like she'd drunk five pots of coffee already.

"What?" Luka's voice was monotone, as usual.

" _Micul nostru Alice are un iubit~_ " Vladimira sung softly. Luka just hummed as she sipped her butter coffee. It was her third cup. Apparently, her baby had the same taste as she did.

"I don't have a boyfriend." Alice huffed, her cheeks bright red. "I'm seriously going to tell your husband that you were going to look at porn with another man."

Vladimira just grinned at the mention of her Bulgarian husband. "And you would only do tat if you really, really liked tis guy!"

"I honestly think you have too much time on your hands." Alice caught Luka's nod. "Shouldn't you be focusing on other things than guessing who I might be dating?"

Luka snorted softly. "Especially since she hasn't been on a date in three years, at least."

"That's not true-" Alice stopped, blood running cold as she caught Mira's evil grin. "Actually, Luka's right. I haven't been on a date in at least five years. Definitely not dating."

"Yeah, right." Vladimira's grin spread.

"Yes, do tell all." Luka said, sarcastically. Or was she being serious? It was hard to tell.

"It wasn't a date." Alice didn't look at them, instead focusing on her tea. "It was just lunch...and dinner."

"Oh, he's soooo into you~!"

"Shut up." Alice glared. "It was just two meals. He's a huge ladies man, anyways. And French."

" _Kjærlighet kunne ikke bry seg mindre om dine fordommer, Alice._ " Luka piped up.

Alice stared at her, jaw loose. "You're on her side, now?"

The Norwegian woman shrugged. " _Mira gir mer penger enn deg._ "

Alice snorted. "Mira doesn't have to support five people single-handedly."

Luka's attention turned on that. "How are things with your family, anyway?"

Alice grimaced. "They made me homeless and refuse to answer my calls."

"...Oh." Luka said. Mira started freaking out.

"Why didn't you call me?! You could've stayed wit me! Wait, where are you staying, now? Please, don't tell me you became a stripper-" Alice cut her off, before she could say anything else.

"I didn't call either of you because I was just going to stay at my office."

"But?" God damn it, Luka.

"But I found a place to stay." Alice's voice rose a little. "And it doesn't matter right now."

Mira held her head in her hands. **_"Într-adevăr a devenit o stripteuză!"_**

"No." The Englishwoman growled. "I just… Francis found me and took me in."

There was silence at the table for a long time. "Wow, two dates and you're moving in. That's pretty progressive of you." Luka deadpanned. "Have you two slept together, yet?"

"Luka!" Alice hissed. She could feel her face on fire. "I'm not some slut who just sleeps with some random guy."

"Tat's not what some fifty one-night stands would say." Mira pointed out.

Alice gave her a sizzling glare, but didn't deny it. "I didn't have sex with him."

"Yet."

A sharp retort of Alice's was cut off by Luka. "That's enough, Vladimira." She turned to Alice. "Do you seriously trust Bonnefoy? I will find you somewhere else to live if you're family's being fucktards and you're only going to this guy because he's the only one who can give you shelter."

A soft smile nearly crossed Alice's face. Luka was always so cold unless she really thought it was serious. "I've known him for almost a year, now, and he's been through some crazy shit while working with me. I trust him."

XXX

After another hour or so, her cousins had finally released Alice.

Filthy air and smoke pushed against her as she walked through the streets of London. Figures bustled around her, eager to get somewhere. One person crashed into her wounded arm so hard that she flew backwards, groaning in pain.

"You bastard-!" All she caught was a fleeting glance of bright hair, before the person disappeared into the crowd. But something else caught her attention.

A yellow note covered in chicken scratch laid next to her, and it was written in blood, splotches here and there over the paper.

 ** _Why aren't they answering the phone?_**

 **Translations:**

 _Micul nostru Alice are un iubit~_ = Our little Alice has a boyfriend~

 _Kjærlighet kunne ikke bry seg mindre om dine fordommer, Alice_ = Love could not care less about your prejudices, Alice.

 _Mira gir mer penger enn deg._ = Mira makes more money than you.

 _Într-adevăr a devenit o stripteuză!_ = You really did become a stripper!


	26. Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Everything blurred together.

Alice's rampant heartbeat pounded against her chest. Her legs and arm were aching, but she couldn't care less. Everything and everyone was an obstacle, as she tore her way through the crowd. Alice's mind was racing. **_Why aren't they answering the phone?_** How could she have been so fucking blind?!

Alice raced through the apartment lobby, heading straight for her floor. The elevator had been broken for five months, now. She headed to the stairs. Alice's legs tore through the seemingly endless flights of stairs. She wasn't fast enough. She need to get to them, now.

Alice reached her apartment, her home, in what seemed like a century later. She didn't bother knocking, or banging on the door.

She didn't have to; the door was wide open.

A piercing scream ripped itself out of her before she could comprehend what she was even looking at.

 ** _Blood._**

Bright, ruby red streaks everywhere. Handprints on the wall. Ripped up rabbits lay scattered about the apartment, completely gutted. **_"Alistair!?"_** She could hardly hear herself. Her trembling hand held her gun, it's gears warmed up and ready. Her body was trembling in fear, and she hated herself for it. Where were they? Where was he? Alice's head whipped around several times, just to make sure she didn't see anyone sneaking up behind her… Or even worse, a dead human body. **_"Dylan! Wilma? Patrick!?"_** Nothing. Absolute silence.

Blood-written words covered the walls of her home: _Bunny._ That was it. No clues, no taunting remarks. It was written in several different languages, both in tiny and large writing. Bunny? Why bunny-

Her blood was ice cold.

He was there. He was there when Alistair called her that. How else would he have known? Nobody knew about her nickname, except for Alistair, Dylan and the twins. He was watching her. But for how long? Alice wasted no time whipping out her phone. **_"Where. Are. They."_**

" _Che cazzo?_ " Lovino's voice crackled on the other end. " _Di cosa stai parlando?_ "

 ** _"_** ** _WHERE ARE THEY?!"_** Alice practically screamed, boiling rage coursing through her veins. **_"You promised! You promised you would protect them!"_** Lovino sputtered a bunch of Italian shit that she was in no mood to hear.

She hung up and called Alfred. "Yo, dudette, whatsup?"

"Alfred…" Her voice shook, and her nose was prickling. "Get your ass down here with the squad. I've got a crime to report."

"Yeah, sure. Where at? What crime?" She could hear Alfred shuffle some paper on his desk, his voice changing to concern.

She swallowed thickly, looking at the carcasses and blood all around her. Suddenly, she felt sick. "J-Just… get-get to my house… and hurry."

XXX

Alice stared into the murky grey sky of London.

Her fifth fag was placed in between her fingers and the other hand held a giant bottle of a vodka, whiskey and ale mixture. It was her second one, and nearly all gone, and it still wasn't enough. The police had come and gone. Alfred was sitting next to her, making sure she didn't kill herself with liquor. She didn't protest, since she hardly noticed his presence, anyways.

Everything ran through her mind: Alistair's stupid ass drinking habits, Dylan's soft and warm smile, the twins and their pranking. Shades of green...Deep green, like the forest in the highlands of Scotland. Jade green, soft and warm, and quiet. The lucky clover twins, and their bright eyes.

Lovino called Alice after she had hung up. He explained what had happened, or rather, what didn't happen. All the Mafia guards that had been keeping watch over her siblings were killed, a bullet straight through their heads. The killer had left no trace whatsoever.

Lovino didn't bother trying to apologize to her, he knew what it was like to have your family taken away from you. Nothing could possibly make her feel better except for her siblings, safe and sound.

…And the decapitated body of the insane bastard who thought that he could get away with this shit.

Alice took another swig from her bottle. "You said that there was no one else in the apartment building, right?"

Alfred looked hesitant, but answered her anyways. He personally didn't know the other Kirklands well. He didn't really care for them, either. Yeah, he was worried for their safety, but nowhere near the level of Alice. "Yeah. They all have solid alibis. They were either at Thanksgiving with their family or working."

Alice hummed, still staring off into the sky. "I'm taking on this case."

"Alice." Alfred scolded, staring at her in shock. She'd never taken two cases at the same time, before. "Y'know you shouldn't. I get it, it's your family. I really do. But, you can't just let the serial killer case go-"

Alice said, finally looking at him. "I'm doing both at the same time." There was no room for protest in her voice, but it didn't stop Alfred from trying.

"You can't." Alfred's voice was firm. "It's against the rules to take more than two cases at once, especially at the same time."

Even in her emotionally-wrecked, tipsy, and intoxicated state, Alice knew better than to tell Alfred that the two were connected. They had to be. "I'll manage it."

"No." Alfred took the fag from her hand. "Your emotions will get it the way. You're already drinking your liver and smoking your lungs away. You can't handle this; you're just going to sink in depression-"

"Depression?" Alice hissed, yanking back the fag and then standing up. "I'm too fucking pissed to be depressed, Alfred. I'm not some weeping violet from a horribly written, teenage romance novel." She swiveled around after walking a few steps. The bright green inferno in her eyes made Alfred quiver in fear.

"This bastard wants to play **_games?_** He wants to just waltz into my life as he pleases, and then he dares- **_he fucking dares to mess with my family?!_** " Alice's body was numb, from her toes to the ends of her hair. Completely numb. With rage. "Well, then… ** _The game is on._** "


	27. Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

"You're a moron."

The intern looked at her as if Alice had just grown four more heads. "Excuse me?"

"Done." Alice said shortly. "Now, let me see them."

"Ma'am, I don't think-" The intern started again, but she cut her off.

"I have an appointment." Alice said. "I'm Detective Kirkland."

"D-d-d-detective Kirkland?" They stared at her with wide eyes.

Alice resisted the temptation to roll her eyes or slap the intern. "I don't have time to sign an autograph. Move it." The intern didn't protest this time, watching as Alice stomped away.

Dark wooden hallways passed as she stormed her way down the main hall. It's been a week since Alice walked in on the horrifying bloodshed in her home. It's been a week since her world has started falling apart. She can hardly think straight nowadays. She never knows whether what she's doing is right or wrong.

Alice had been even more snappish this past week than ever in her whole life.

She cussed out Francis for not adding rum into her tea (Even though he had been doing it to help her, and it wasn't good for her health, so she should stop, anyway.), and Alfred had already had to confiscate five cigarette packs from her, also for her health.

People started moving away from her every time she passed by, which, while not being all that stranger from normal, she knew that it wasn't out of begrudging respect like it usually was. No, it was out of fear.

Alice reached the Council Room. She didn't bother knocking, they knew it'd be her. She flung the giant doors open, startling the council members.

The three stared at her for a long time, before recovering. It was no use trying to argue with her, though. They'd known her and her father for over forty-five years, and they knew it was absolutely useless to get a Kirkland to take orders from you.

Nonetheless, the head council member still tried. "Ms. Kirkland, will you ever understand that we are not to slam open doors? Especially, mahogany."

"I understand perfectly well, sir, but given that I don't give a shit, I suggest you get used to it." Alice commented dryly.

Another council member rolled their eyes at Alice. "We've been getting reports that you've been...out of order."

"Out of order?" She felt her eye twitch. What right did any of those tossers have to talk about her attitude? Did they have a missing family, kidnapped by a mass murdering psycho?

The council members flinched. "We understand your situation, however." An old member sighed. "And we've agreed that we'll let you off the hook, unless...any of this behavior continues. At that point, we believe it would be best for everyone if you were taken off of the case."

XXX

" _Quoi? Vous vous déplacez sur?_ "

Alice didn't look at Francis. "I think...It might be best for everyone." She looked up at him. His soft features were laced with worry and concern. He'd been more careful around her the past week, watching in case she'd burst into tears at any moment. She wasn't some water balloon just waiting to burst.

"You zink zere's a connection between…"

Alice nodded, grabbing her violin from the corner of the room. "I can't let what happened to them happen to you and Matthew." She paused before turning back to look at Francis again. _What an idiot_ , Alice though, but it had no malice in it. She had finally called Lovino again and had gotten him guard Francis' apartment, though she had several doubts on how useful the fucktard was, right now. "You know my phone number, so if anything happens, just call me… Yeah?"

Francis managed a smile for her, but barely. " _Oui._ " His heart hurt. He was watching her drift away from him, he had been for a whole week. Francis didn't want them to go back to the way they were before, but more than anything, he didn't want to see her go through the pain alone.

"Alice, I-" He stopped. Now wasn't the time for any of that.

"Yes?"

"...Just…" Francis sighed. "Just call me if you need anything, _oui_? I mean it."

Alice half-heartedly smirked. "Of course. You're my assistant, after all."


	28. Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

She had been there for thirty minutes and she already decided she hated her new apartment.

It was old and cheap. The studio apartment smelt like rats, and mold, and maybe just a twinge of sewer. The walls were covered with peeling, old-lady wallpaper. The floor had an uneven slope from the one window on the one side of the studio to the door.

Alice couldn't care less though.

She'd set up a large board against the wall and used some old, cardboard boxes as her temporary desk. A sleeping bag sat in the other corner of the room, next a rusty old oil lamp.

"Dudette…" Alfred stood in the doorway, staring at the apartment in disgust.

"It'll do." Was all she said before making her way to the kitchen. "I ordered some take out a while ago, want some?"

He shrugged and followed her into the tiny kitchen. "What'd you order?"

"Just Chinese," Alice said. After serving themselves up, they went over to the old oil lamp to eat. "...I shouldn't have left."

"From Francis' place?" Alfred asked, glancing at her.

She shook her head. "I never should've left my stupid siblings alone. **_I was the stupid one._** "

"You couldn't have known, Ali." Alfred shook his head. "No one could've. And besides, they kicked you out. You were angry, and hurt, and there was no way you were going to go see them, like: 'Hey, guys, I know you were real jerks, but I really miss you so I am going to forgive you!'."

"I tried calling them. At least five times a day." Alice muttered. "They never once answered. I thought that they were just ignoring me, or weren't around to hear the phone. I should've guessed that this would've happened."

Alfred gave her a confused glance. "What do you mean?"

"Do you really think it's a coincidence, Alfred?" She said, glaring down at her food. "All the victims have been blonde with green eyes. Even Vash, and he committed suicide. And my apartment…Alistair used to call me Bunny when I was a kid. And just before they kicked me out, he was so hammered he actually called me that again."

You could see all the blood drain from Alfred's face. He gave a nervous laugh. "Y-you c-can't be se-se-serious, right? Right?" She met his gaze. "Oh. My. God." Alfred flipped. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…"

"If you're trying to summon something, you might want to try a sacrifice and some crystals." Alice commented dryly.

 ** _"_** ** _There is a crazy ass serial killer out there and you're on his hit list?!"_**

"Essentially."

 ** _"_** ** _Why didn't you tell me?!"_**

"I wasn't sure." She shrugged. "I…had a hunch. But, I didn't know for sure. Not until they disappeared."

Alfred gave her a quick pitying glance. "We need to get this place surrounded. I'll get my guys on watch, you-"

"That won't be necessary, Alfred. It's impossible, too." Alice stood. "You can't just order the place to be surrounded, we have no proof. And more importantly, if we make a fuss about this and nothing happens, I'll be kicked off the case."

"Is that all you care about?" Alfred hissed at her. "Whether or not you get kicked off the case?! What about your life?!"

"Of course it's all that matters to me right now, Alfred." She snapped. "I'm the only one who can solve this. I know it. And if I don't, how many other people will die?! Five? Ten? Twenty? I won't risk it just because I know I'm on the list."

"I just don't-" Alfred started crying softly. "Why? Why don't you care about your life? Do you not value yourself? Is it so hard for you to live among us idiots?"

Her body relaxed. She pulled him into a hug. She whispered comfortingly, "I'll be okay. It'll take more than a serial killer to kill me. You should go home, yeah? I'll see you at work, don't worry."

Alfred gave her once last teary-eyed glare, but eventually left after Alice threatened to call Ivan.

She sighed, looking over the massive pile of paperwork. The apartment somehow seemed more empty when it was just her in there. A sharp thud jolted against the wall.

Her head whipped over.

Nothing was there. The board on the wall was still firmly in its place. Cautiously, Alice went over and moved the board from off the wall. Another thud. A kick?

One…Two…Three…Four…

Another kick.

The process repeated over and over every four seconds. What the actual fuck? The landlord said that nobody else was living in the other apartment. Obviously, they were wrong, whether they knew it or not. Okay, so someone's either living in the next door apartment illegally or the landlord lied to her. Got it, nothing interesting. But why were they kicking the damn wall?

One…Two…Three…Four… A kick. One…Two…Three…Four. A kick.

Then it hit her. She felt as though she'd been knocked back with a wrecking ball. Four people had died since she'd taken the case. Isabelle, Olivia, Vash, and Vanessa.

Or on the other hand, Alistair, Dylan, Patrick and Wilma.

Alice suddenly felt like throwing up.


	29. Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

Well, shit.

The two most accurate words that could ever describe Alice Kirkland's twenty something years on the planet that was oh so cleverly named 'Earth'. Really, billions of billions of people that lived over the centuries of human kind and the best they could come up was Earth? They literally named themselves the inhabitants of a ball of dirt. Could've at least called it Terra, or something.

It was stupidity of humanity that led her to this point, she mused, sitting under the council members' stern glares. They were finally firing her.

Seriously, humans were stupid. Why hadn't they been wiped off the planet by now? Couldn't the universe or a random deity just come up with a flood or meteor?

Alice wasn't saying that she wasn't stupid. Oh, she knew that she was stupid. She just wasn't as stupid as the rest of the lot she had to deal with every day.

Alice made the mistake of calling the police to her apartment. Her conversation with Alfred must've rattled her enough to make her feel like she was going to die that night.

They came over, and with the landlord's permission, broke down the door or the next door apartment. And what did they find? A moldy, completely empty, no signs of entry or exiting studio apartment nearly identical to Alice's.

Some morons on Alfred's squad even had the nerve to report to the council about her supposed "insanity". And now she was here, all because of some stupidity. Funny thing, about being a moron: you'll never even realize you're one.

Being wise enough to see that is a curse.

You're surrounded by the idiots of the world, all alone. The worst is when you're young. Your peers will shun you and bully you until you become one of them, your seniors will simply laugh and pat your head. No one will listen to you. The street smart ones, the ones that survive the madness they're surrounded in, they'll dumb themselves down to the average, only showing a spark of their true selves every once in a pink moon.

Others are driven to madness, into a darker whole than even the averages are in.

Alice could remember what it was like to be one of those kids. She was the weird one. The one that was pegged with stupid nicknames and bullied. She spent most of her early years surrounded by adults, more specifically, doctors. It took her a long time before she was finally exposed to the real world of kids her age.

Despite never going to school, she was at least three grades ahead in all her subjects. She had nothing else to do in the hospital, anyways. So, mentally, she was superior to the children around her, and sometimes even the teachers. It's not as great as it sounds, Alice would say when someone asked how it felt to be ahead.

She remembered distinctly this one principal at her elementary school.

He was a fat man. So much so that the children used to call him 'Mr. Hippo'. For once her and her peers could agree on that.

He wasn't just a fat, ugly man. He was unfair and filthy. He used to bully the teachers and the kids alike. He particularly didn't like Alice. He didn't think girls should be educated in anything but childbirth and cooking. Alice hated him more than anyone else, too. He would constantly tell her father that Alice was failing in her grades, even though she was bringing home A's every day.

But her father was stern about that school. Alice had already been expelled from three other schools before. He didn't need a fourth. So, she put up with the principal hippo. But then he did something that she absolutely drew a line at.

One day, her father was too busy to pick her up from school, so Wilma came, instead. Neither of the girls were very happy about that. Wilma wanted to do her own thing, whatever that was. Alice was in her twenties and she still didn't know what teenage girls did.

Anyways, Wilma came to school and picked her up on time, amazingly. The principal had stood by Alice the whole time, probably waiting for her father to show up so that he could complain about Alice to him.

His jaw hit the floor when he saw Wilma.

She was going through a phase. She wore her hair differently, put on more makeup than should be allowed on a teenager's face, and strutted around in heels and revealing clothing. Alistair used to tease her about looking like a stripper before she clubbed him over.

Around this time of their lives, Wilma and Alice didn't really get along. Even more than usual. Wilma thought of Alice as a little daddy's girl, a know-it-all twerp. Alice quite honestly hardly ever got along with her siblings. But she still loved them, and her principal's actions didn't go unnoticed by her.

He was drooling over at the sight of Wilma's bum, his hand twitching in little squeezing motions. Little Alice was just at the perfect height to see the tent growing in his pants, as well.

She had more fury in her body than its tiny self could take.

She promptly kicked him right in his growing boner and dragged her sister away from him. Alice got grounded by her father, though he didn't allow her a chance to explain. So, she sent a letter to the principal's wife, anonymously of course, telling him about how her husband had cheated on her (It wasn't a lie, he was sleeping with three of the teachers at the school, all the kids knew about it.), what he did to her sister, and the address of the local newspaper man who loved to write about scandals.

The school ended up closing down.

When her father read in the newspaper about how an anonymous letter tipped off the wife and what was written in it, he went still for a very long time. Then, he looked over at Alice and ruffled her hair softly. "Good job, bunny." He said, and then took all the kids out to eat ice cream.

She was on her own, right now. This serial killer that was running around…he'd better prepare, because now, Alice had even less reason to work under the law.


	30. Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

Lovino stared out at the rolling sea.

" _Mi amor, ¿no relajarse?_ " Antonio walked into the room. " _Es nuestra luna de miel. Trate de relajarse, sí?_ "

The Mafia Lord looked up at his husband. "It's-a been-a week since she last-a called-a us." He may not have been the closest to Alice, but she was still a friend of his. He owed her a lot of things. "Should I-a tell her?"

"What use would it do?" Antonio said, sitting next to Lovino on the sofa, wrapping his tanned arms around the Italian. "He's dead."

" _Sí…_ " Lovino muttered. "But-a those-a knives..."

"How can a ghost kill someone, _mi amor_?" His husband said, trailing soft kisses on Lovino's neck. "We threw his body into the ocean after we made sure there was no more heartbeat, you know that."

"I guess you're right for once, _idiota_." Lovino smiled softly, turning around and smashing his lips onto Antonio's, full of lust. The Spaniard smirked, glad he finally got his husband's attention. He pushed Lovino down into the sofa, moaning when he bit Antonio's lip and tugged on his dark chocolate hair. Oh, ho. They were going to have fun tonight.

XXX

She could feel it slowly eating away at her.

The madness had begun, slowly spreading throughout the week. Alice jumped at every nearly inaudible creak, every little blow of the wind. She thought that working alone would've been a great advantage. It wasn't, really. She was scared, she was vulnerable, and she was alone. Alice realized that, for the first time in her life, she was really alone.

When she was a child, she'd been surrounded by doctors and nurses, when she was going through her youth, she had her family and Alfred. As an adult, she had her fiancé and the orchestra. The past years, she had Alfred, her family and Francis.

Now, there was no one.

There is no one to talk to, no one to stand by her. No one, except…him.

The killer visited her every night. She never saw him, but always, always at four o'clock at night, the kicking would begin. And it wouldn't stop until four o'clock in the morning. It was no use to try and wear ear plugs, she'd only hear the haunting echo, anyways. The few hours of sleep that she did get was filled with nightmares. When she'd shoot awake, dripping in sweat, the only thing that she'd remember was blood and screams. Lots of blood.

The alcohol helped.

It distracted Alice from the terrorizing of the killer.

It was her only friend, at this point, anyways. Alfred and Francis were banned from calling, meeting, or having any sort of contact with her, whatsoever. Stupid bastards, though she was slightly grateful. She would have a harder time keeping them away if their job was on the line. The stupid American would probably be worrying sick about her instead of doing his job. Alfred was always like that. He was filled with bright smiles and free eyes. It wasn't hard to see why the cold Russian lawyer had taken a liking to him.

Francis…

She was alone, now, and there was no shame in admitting to the emptiness about her feelings. Alice had never felt so strongly about anyone before, not even her past fiancé, before he'd cheated.

Yes, Francis was a French, womanizing, flirt, who still had the habits of a spoiled rich kid, sometimes. But still…He was kind and loving. Francis gave her a home, when he could've just ignored her. His rich, indigo eyes sparkled when he talked about baking or his son. His nicknames made her heart beat skip. Just a little bit. And to be perfectly, excruciatingly honest, Francis put those Greek statues to shame. She didn't even have to see underneath to know that.

But what was she compared to him?

Alice was a dull, poor, alcoholic homicide detective.

She was also his boss. What man ever fell in love with his boss? She smoked, too, so she smelt horrendous if you managed to get past the pungent smell of liquor that radiated from her. She was too cynical for love, and too flat chested to make up for any of her faults. The only skill Alice had was violin and finding insane murderers. _Yes, soooo attractive_.

They lived in two different worlds and hers could potentially kill him and his son. It'd be better for their safety if she didn't say anything.

XXX

Francis honestly didn't know what made him think that coming there was a good idea.

Nonetheless, the Frenchman stood in front of a shabby apartment door. He took a deep breath and knocked softly, almost hoping that it wasn't heard.

The door swung open.

Alice stood in the doorway, looking ragged and depressed and drunk. All thoughts were forgotten as he rushed up to her. He held her face in his hands. Wide, grass green eyes looked up at him, wide and bloodshot. "Frog! What the fu-!"

" _Avez-vous été manger?_ " He chided her. He sniffed the air in disgust. " _Combien avez-vous bu? Il sent comme un pub pas cher ici._ " She had enough energy to scowl at him, at least. That was a good sign. "What are you doing here, Francis? You'll get fired if they find out you've come to see me." "I know zat." He huffed softly. "Here. It came in the mail for you." He handed her a small letter. Alice nearly forgot he was there as she ripped open the letter. A frown crossed her face. "It's blank." She glanced at him. "No moron would ever send a blank letter." The Englishwoman turned back into the apartment, muttering something about a lighter. "Are you sure?" Francis hesitantly walked into her apartment. It was a complete and utter mess. Take out containers lay around haphazardly, a sleeping bag in the corner of the room, and a large working space. It actually looked a lot like her office before Francis had cleaned it up for her. "Accidents do happen." "Let me rephrase that," Alice said, taking her cigarette lighter and placing it behind the paper. Slowly, cursive words appeared softly in the light. Invisible ink. "No moron I'd ever associate with would send a blank letter." She grinned triumphantly at Francis. A seemingly large weight lifted from his shoulders. It always felt good to see her smile. "What does it say?" "It's in Latin." Alice growled slightly. "Cheeky fucker." It didn't take her long to decipher the secret message. She always worked faster with new material. Francis leaned on the wall, feeling more at ease. Alice was okay. She was perfectly fine, besides sinking into alcohol, cigars, and junk food. Alfred and Francis had nearly worried their heads off before a letter arrived for her, giving them a perfect excuse to see her. He'd actually had to battle Alfred to see Alice, and that was no easy task, especially when the American had a ginormous and patriotic bionic arm on his side.

"Well?"

"It's a friend of mine." Alice muttered offhandedly. "He's helped me do some research for the case. It looks like he's got a lead on something. A man named Berwald. Swedish, I think."

"And?" It didn't surprise him that Alice was still working on the case or that she'd been doing some illegal things to get info. As long as it wasn't killing someone or becoming a prostitute, Francis was quite fine with that. Getting caught would be terrible, too.

"Berwald apparently likes to visit a strip club downtown. Huh." Alice said, then paused a bit. "I'm going."

"What?"

"I'm going to the strip club. Tonight, probably. Best to get there before he leaves London." She explained.

"You're not going alone, are you?"

She rose an eyebrow. "I'm certainly not bringing Alfred. Lord knows what he'd do if he saw a naked body besides Ivan's. It'd scare the poor boy half to death."

Francis decided to ignore that comment about Alfred's boyfriend. "Let me come wiz you."

"Why?" Alice asked. "You've already risked your job enough, why push it any farther?"

Francis paused, a blush slowly creeping over his face. " _Ce sera en vaut la peine, si elle est pour vous._ "

 **Translations:**

 _Mi amor, ¿no relajarse?_ = My love, why aren't you relaxing?

 _Es nuestra luna de miel. Trate de relajarse, sí?_ = It is our honeymoon. Try to relax, yes?

 _Sí…_ = Yes...

 _Mi amor =_ My love.

 _Idiota =_ Idiot.

 _Avez-vous été manger?_ = Have you been eating?

 _Combien avez-vous bu? Il sent comme un pub pas cher ici._ = How much have you been drinking? It feels like a cheap pub here.

 _Ce sera en vaut la peine, si elle est pour vous._ = It'll be worth it, if it's you.


	31. Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

In the end, Francis came with her.

They were going to a strip club and dressing like police probably wasn't a good idea. Francis managed to get some clothes for himself and Alice to wear. He wore a purple turncoat under an unbuttoned black trench coat, but with a pair of jeans so it still looked casual enough for clubbing.

Alice had a hard time keeping her eyes off of him, or at least, without him noticing.

Francis, on the other hand, didn't even try to be bashful when it came to Alice. She wore a long, scarlet red maxi dress. It hugged her torso tightly and her bare back was covered with black lace. The dress flew loosely from the hips and stopped just before the ankles. Pearl earrings and necklace glittered in the dim light.

"It's been a long time since I've worn anything like this." Alice muttered, somewhat bitterly, looking down at the dress.

He took her hand, smiling softly. " _Vous êtes belle._ "

Alice nearly melt. Francis' hands were so warm and soft…his indigo eyes glistened with an emotion that could only be described as breathtaking. Her breath hitched and she stared at him with wide eyes. "I-I…Thank you."

XXX

The club reeked of alcohol and sex.

Wonderful. Francis couldn't help be somewhat pissed off. The first time he finally gets to see Alice in a dress and they're surrounded with filth. Why couldn't this lead have been at, he didn't know, maybe a nice restaurant or romantic park? He sighed. No, they preferred just to get to the sex part.

Alice didn't seem to mind the surroundings, though, besides the little frown on her face. She could care less about the smell; her whole apartment was like a nightclub of its own. Alice strutted up to the giant guard that stood at the entrance. It was a funny sight really. A tiny, petite woman glaring up at a giant, bulky man.

It was even funnier when you thought about the fact that she could take him down with one glare and a sassy comment.

"Here." She handed him a card. They had found that inside the letter, hidden.

The man raised an eyebrow. "VIP? We don't have VIP here. Who gave you that card?"

"He has no name."

The man's eyes went wide with fear and he immediately started shaking in fear. "C-C-C-Come ri-right this way, ma'am."

Francis raised an eyebrow at Alice, but she just shrugged, clearly not wanting to show any information with him.

The club was dark, with music booming into their ears. Neon lights flashed, revealing loads of drunkards and…strippers. Once upon a time, Francis wouldn't mind being in a place like this. It wouldn't have met to his spoiled self's standards, but still, any club would've done for him.

Alice sashayed up to the bartender. The short, blond man smiled at her softly. "What can I do for you today, ma'am?"

She felt her eyebrow nearly rise. You didn't usually hear bartenders act so politely. "I'm looking for a man called Berwald Oxenstierna."

A flash of recognition crossed the man's pale face and he smiled. "Ah, you're looking for Berwald." The bartender, called Tino, as Alice noticed the tag on his shirt. "I'll need some sort of card and a name."

"Here," She gave Tino the VIP card. "I was given this by he who has no name." She gave him a slightly pointed look, letting him know not to say Lovino's name around Francis. Alice refused to get him mixed up in her business with the Mafia.

"Very well, ma'am." Tino said, still smiling, but there was an odd edge to it. Whatever it was, he was obviously slightly protective of Berwald. "Please come right this way."

The Finnish man called for someone to take his place before walking around the corner. He led them past the strippers and to a dimly lit hallway. "He's in room number five."

Alice gave him a short nod of appreciation, walking down the hall. As soon as Tino was gone, she turned to Francis.

"I need you to be quiet during this whole thing, all right?"

Francis raised an eyebrow at her. "Why would I do zat?"

"Just trust me." Alice waved a dismissive hand, lowering her voice to a whisper. "This place is more dangerous than other nightclubs. More than the Fox and Goblin. I can't tell you much, but I need you to trust me."

Francis looked at her skeptically for a moment. "Do you trust zis man? Ze one zat has no name?"

Alice shushed him quickly, head whipping around. "Even saying that is dangerous. And, yes, he may be a complete and utter asshole, but…" Francis raised an eyebrow at her, urging her to continue. "I've been friends with him for nearly a decade, now, and I do trust him."

That was all he needed to hear. If Alice was okay with him, then Francis could manage.

Room number five had a small radio in the corner, a coffee table and two sofas. A man sat on one of the sofas. He had short, scruffy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing a dark blue uniform of sorts. He reminded Alice of a slightly taller, sterner Alfred. His piercing eyes looked up at her. "Kirkland?"

"Oxenstierna." She said, sitting down on the opposite sofa.

"Didn't say you'd be bringing luggage." He glared at Francis.

"I didn't think I would be, either." Alice shrugged, nonchalantly. "He won't be a bother. Do you speak Italian? Maybe German?"

" _Parlo diciassette lingue._ "

Alice tried not to roll her eyes. " _Immagino che hai sentito parlare dei recenti omicidi. L'assassino sta usando coltelli da Lovino._ "

Berwald nodded stiffly. " _Rumor sulla strada è che è fantasma Romolo ', in cerca di sangue._ "

She did snort that time. " _Un fantasma sarebbe più facile da gestire di questo. Morto di Zwingli, si è ucciso con una bottiglia di cianuro._ "

" _L'ho sentito dire. Essa ha causato molto la scalpore nella comunità di..._ " Berwald said, looking frustrated. " _Vergogna. Era un buon tiro._ "

" _Era in una relazione con le prime due vittime. Trio._ " A look of disgust crossed the Swedish man's face for a moment after she said that. " _Era il nostro unico sospettato, e senza prove per dimostrare innocente, si è ucciso. Un'altra donna è stata uccisa, pochi giorni dopo._ "

Berwald said nothing for a moment, and then, in English. "I suppose you'll be needing my alibi then." Alice nodded shortly. "Tino, the bartender, can vouch for me."

 **Translations:**

 _Vous êtes belle._ = You are beautiful.

 _Parlo diciassette lingue._ = I speak seventeen languages.

 _Immagino che hai sentito parlare dei recenti omicidi. L'assassino sta usando coltelli da Lovino._ = I guess you've heard of the recent murders. The murderer is using the knives Lovino has.

 _Rumor sulla strada è che è fantasma Romolo ', in cerca di sangue._ = Rumor on the street is that it's Romulus's ghost, looking for blood.

 _Un fantasma sarebbe più facile da gestire di questo. Morto di Zwingli, si è ucciso con una bottiglia di cianuro._ = A ghost would be easier to manage than this. Zwingli died, killed himself with a bottle of cyanide.

 _L'ho sentito dire. Essa ha causato molto la scalpore nella comunità di..._ = So I've heard. It caused quite a stir in the community...

 _Vergogna. Era un buon tiro._ = Shame. He was a good shot.

 _Era in una relazione con le prime due vittime. Trio._ = He was in a relationship with the first two victims. Trio.

 _Era il nostro unico sospettato, e senza prove per dimostrare innocente, si è ucciso. Un'altra donna è stata uccisa, pochi giorni dopo. =_ He was our only suspect, and no evidence to prove innocent, he killed himself. Another woman was killed a few days later.


	32. Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

The Finnish man did vouch for Berwald, after all, and even promised to send the camera footage.

Alice convinced the Swedish gangster to give him a sample of his handwriting, and it was conveniently not what she was looking for. "Hey, sweetie." A pungent rush of alcohol flew into Alice's face. She whipped around and out of the strangers hold. A drunk man stood, or rather, swayed from behind her. "Are you _-hiccup-_ French, hehe, 'cause, Ma ** _damn_**."

Alice felt her nose scrunch up in disgust, a quick comeback ready on her tongue. "No, I'm obviously English, because you're just not my cup of tea."

"Aw, babe, come on _-belch-_ don't be like that…" The drunkard stuttered. "I-I thi-think I could make you very, _very_ , **_very_** happy." He gave her a lecherous grin.

"Why? Are you leaving?"

"You're so beautiful, honey." The man tried one last time, anger growing. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Hiding from you, obviously."

The man's fist came towards her before she could do anything. Alice braced herself, bringing her arms up to protect her. But the blow never came. Her eyes flash open and suddenly that drunk man laid on the ground, groaning. Francis is standing next to her, looking furious and ready to kill something. To kill the drunk. It revved up a shiver of fear through Alice. Francis' arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to him.

Another shiver ran through her, but it wasn't fear.

" _Allon_ s." He hissed, pulling her away from the nightclub, still keeping her close to him. As if he was trying to protect her from the world.

The angry Frenchman stormed on, walking too fast for Alice too keep up. "Frog…Francis…Francis, stop! Francis!" She yelled at Francis. Yanking herself away, she stared at him in concern. "Frog, are you okay?"

" _Bien sûr, je ne suis pas d'accord! Il mit ses mains sales sur vous et il a essayé de vous blesser!_ " He hissed at her, indigo eyes livid. **_"Le bâtard essayé de vous blesser."_**

" _Hey, hey, écouter._ " Alice whispered, putting her hand in his. She didn't even notice; it was just her natural reaction to reach out to him. " _Je vais bien, vois? Je vais bien. Tu m'as sauvé. Merci, Francis._ "

That seemed to calm him down. His shoulders relaxed and the hatred in his eyes softened. "But what if I wasn't zere?" Francis stared down at their joined hands. He squeezed a little. "What would've happened if I wasn't wiz you?"

Alice decided that saying that she probably would've taken a punch or two before knocking out the drunk man with his own vodka bottle wasn't a good thing to say at that moment. "I don't have to worry about that." The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them, "You're always by my side."

She watched the bright red blush sizzle over the Frenchman's face for a moment before she processed what she'd blurted out. "I-I-I j-just me-mean that you-your m-my assistant, so-so of course you'd be with me." Alice tried to cover up her mistake, blushing furiously.

"I'm not your assistant, now." Francis reminded her softly, his blush had faded slightly.

She forgot her embarrassment for a moment and looked up at him curiously. "Then why are you…?"

A soft smile spread over his face. A soft, slender hand cupped Alice's cheek and she found herself unintentionally leaning into it. God, she wasn't any better than a silly schoolgirl. "Because I want to be here. With you." Francis' words sent jolts through her.

And then, slowly, they began to lean in.

Francis smelled like lavender, Alice dully noted on the side, like lavender and vanilla and that Distinctly-Francis smell. His lips, soft and smooth, brushed hers. Alice pushed herself forward-

 ** _Ring...Ring...Ring!_**

Francis shot back, in surprise. "A-Ah, yes?" A frown crossed his face. "Now?... Fine, I understand." He looked back at Alice, shyly. "It's Matthew's babysitter… She says zat zere's been a change in plans and she needs me to come home sooner zan usual."

"I…I understand. You should get home to your boy. And I need to go back to my apartment." Alice stuttered, lips still tingling from the almost kiss.

"Come home wiz me."

"W-What?"

"Come home wiz me, Alice." Francis repeated. "It's not safe for you to be by yourself. Not wiz some crazy ass psycho murderer. I don't care if I get fired, it'll be worz ze risk."

Alice paused. She was lonely. So, damn, fucking lonely. But she couldn't. She refused to put Francis and Matthew in the position to be a target for the killer. Alice would deal with it, even if it killed her in the end. "No, thank you." She managed a smile, but it was painful. "I'll be fine."

 **Translations:**

 _Allons_ = Come.

 _Bien sûr, je ne suis pas d'accord! Il mit ses mains sales sur vous et il a essayé de vous blesser!_ = Of course, I'm not okay! He put his filthy hands on you and he tried to hurt you!

 _Le bâtard essayé de vous blesser. =_ The bastard tried to hurt you.

 _Hey, hey, écouter._ = Hey, hey, listen.

 _Je vais bien, vois? Je vais bien. Tu m'as sauvé. Merci, Francis._ = I'm fine, see? I'm fine. You saved me. Thank you, Francis.


	33. Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

Cold air spread into the building.

Salty sea waves crashed against the shore, leaving a pungent trace. He didn't smell it. He could only smell blood. And how could he not? He hadn't taken a bath in weeks, even after gutting the sluts. Zwingli killing himself wasn't exactly planned, but oh well, the bastard was still dead, anyways. His only regret was that he wasn't there to see the horror and pain on his face.

The man stormed down the cold, barren hallways. Time to see his special guests.

A rusted, bolted door creaked open. It revealed a plain, large room, it's decorations were the chains around his guests' hands. Their four heads snapped up to him. It was the first time they'd actually seen their captor. The eldest, a red-head, hissed at him. Alistair Kirkland, if he remembered correctly.

"Wha' ta bluudy hell is goin' on here?" His voice held nothing but hatred and…fear.

The dark figure felt a dark grin spread over his face. Not that they could see it behind his mask. "You should feel grateful; I've given you nothing but the best treatment." His thick accent rang through the room. The Kirklands couldn't decipher what if was, but they knew that he didn't speak English as a first language.

 ** _"_** ** _Buíoch?!"_** The female, Wilma Kirkland, hissed. "Yeah, we're rayle grateful ter be chained ter a wall an' fed 'orse shoite!"

"You could be dead." The mystery man shrugged.

"Who are you?" Ah, finally. A smart one. He looked down. The legless one was the one who had spoken, Dylan Kirkland.

The bloodthirsty grin on the man's face just grew, but they couldn't see it behind his mask. "Come now, you may not know me, but surely you've seen my work?" Nothing. He sighed. "Oh, well. I suppose I'll just tell you." He took out four pictures and pinned them to the wall. "Recognize these?"

"Oh, God." Patrick Kirkland looked horrified.

"The Devil, actually."

"Ye're him!" Alistair stared at him, his eyes wide with fear. "Ye're ta bastard who kille' 'ose lasses."

"You're brighter than you look." The killer made a face. "Still not the genius that your little sister is, though, are you?" They visibly flinched, as though a shot of electricity struck them.

 ** _"_** ** _What. Did. You. Do. To Her."_** Dylan seethed, positively livid and ready kill. How amusing.

"Oh, nothing, yet." The killer grinned wickedly. "The question really is: What will I do when I finally get my hands on her?" He let out a ferocious laugh. "Do you know how long I've waited? Nearly a decade! I've waited nearly a decade to get my hands on that disgusting little bitch. And she didn't even notice!"

"Oh, no, she was too busy worrying after her stupid siblings to even notice that she was the one in real danger." He loved watching the horror spread through their expressions. "Little Alice's getting close you know. You should've seen her face when she found her home ripped into shreds and her family missing. Ha! It was beautiful. I've been visiting her the past couple weeks, too, it's wonderful watching her slowly loose her sanity."

 ** _"_** ** _You stay away from her!"_** Alistair thrashed against the chains, trying to claw out the man's throat. **_"Lay one hand on her, and I'll fucking kill ye!"_**

He let out a bitter laugh. "I won't just kill her, I'll make it nice and…well, not even painful could describe it." He turned to the pictures. "Notice how all these women are similar? They all had green eyes and blonde hair. Alice will be my final piece. The Grand Finale, if you will."

"I'll chain her to the wall, and then I'll slowly remove her clothing, one little piece at a time. And then I'll just sit there and watch her squirm as she loses any last bit of dignity she has left." He let out a dark laugh. "And then I'll gut her. I'll take my knife and slowly drag it along, watching the blood pour from her body. I won't kill her straight away, no, that'd just take the fun out of it all."

The Kirklands faces, ah, they were so refreshing. Green fire of several shades, furious and ready to unleash themselves and kill him. Pfft. As if any of them could ever lay a hand on him. **_"I want to hear her scream! I want to hear her plead for death! I will make her suffer the greatest pain as she watches me kill every single last one of the people she cares about. Everyone she loves, just like how she took away the love of my life!"_**

 **Translations:**

 ** _Buíoch?!_** = Grateful?!


	34. Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

Three days after talking to Berwald and Alice was still stuck.

The apartment was in a worse mess than when Francis came over, though she had no idea how she managed that. Broken glass lay around, dried blood on the tips.

Probably from her trying to clean it up while she was still drunk, but Alice didn't remember, the hangover was too bad.

Life had gotten even worse for her after visiting the nightclub, as if the killer knew she was getting closer and was trying to stop her. She hadn't talked to anyone else in what felt like forever, and she felt as though her blood had been replaced completely with liquor.

Francis.

The nearly a kiss hadn't stopped running marathons through her head the past three days, not even when she was drunk off her arse.

Alice should've stopped.

She should've pushed him away; she should've not even told him where she was going or doing. But nooo, Alice had to tell him. And now, he might possibly be in danger of being slaughtered by the man after Alice. She wondered what would happen between the two after this was all over. If she was still alive, then. Would they get those cheesy, rot-your-teeth happy endings? Or would he just find a job somewhere else and forget all about her?

Alfred.

How was her little brother doing? He was most likely okay, since no one had called her, screaming thick Russian. _The bugger must be worrying himself thin_ , Alice thought, _it'd be a sight to see Alfred as a thin, lanky man. He'd always been well built, like an American Football player._

Alistair, Dylan, Wilma, and Patrick.

…She wouldn't even dare think about them right now. She couldn't.

A black and white map of London was pinned to her wall. Bright blue pins were placed over the murder scenes, a little note to remind her of the letters that had been painted on their foreheads.

Alice had started to go through the files of all the people that had a collection of Lovino's knives. She'd gone and filtered all of them by using the letters. Perhaps they were clues, pointing to the name of the serial killer. Serial killers tended to like getting the credit. They wanted to be found, you just had to find the right crumb trail. After looking through all the possible candidates, she found one that struck a chord in her for some unknown reason.

 **Vargas, Venziano**

 **Age: 20, dead.**

 **Gender: Male**

 **Family members: Remus Vargas (dead), father; Luciano Vargas (missing), twin brother; Heracles Karpusi, cousin; Gupta Muhammad Assan, cousin; Lovino Vargas, cousin; Feliciano Vargas, cousin.**

 **Position: Head Sniper from Squardron 1532**

A picture fell out of the file. It was a read red-headed man with wild eyes. He wore a hunting cap and a dark tan uniform. He held the entire knife set in between his fingers, grinning maliciously. Venziano was Lovino and Feliciano's cousin. There wasn't much information, just that he'd once been part of Lovino's mafia and then, suddenly, was dead.

Something wasn't right.

Nothing was ever "just dead". Her mind went to the man that Kiku had killed, the one that had the same handwriting as the notes.

She found herself dialing the number before her brain processed it. "…Yes?" Lovino's voice crackled over the line.

"I need some more info." Alice said.

"Seriously, _ragazza_?" Lovino huffed. "Why the fuck did I give you the Viking's location if you were going to just keep pestering me?"

"It was a dead end from what I can tell." She huffed, "Why did you tell me you had a cousin?"

"…" Lovino stayed silent. "… _Che cosa?_ "

"Venziano Vargas." Alice kept her voice steady. There was no way that this man was just dead. Or maybe even dead, at all. There was more to this story. Something that Lovino wasn't telling her about. But…If Lovino went so far as to keep him a secret from Alice…

" _Dimenticati di lui. Adesso._ " Lovino's voice sizzled with hatred.

Alice's interest perked. " _Come mai? Cosa non mi stai dicendo, Lovino?_ "

"Just forget it, _ragazza_. It's in your best interest." The phone line went dead.

 **Translations:**

 _Ragazza_ = Girl.

… _Che cosa?_ = ...What?

 _Dimenticati di lui. Adesso._ = Forget about him. Now.

 _Come mai? Cosa non mi stai dicendo, Lovino?_ = Why? What are you not saying, Lovino?


	35. Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

Life was dull for Francis.

And not just for him, but for the entire work building. He soon discovered that, even though they bitched and moaned about Alice's behavior, they could hardly function without her. Everything about the world seemed more gray without the bossy detective. People moved slower and snapped at each other more harshly than usual.

Alfred had been taking it especially hard.

The American hardly talked to anyone besides Francis, as he was the only one who understood what he was going through. Alfred ate normal proportion sizes, which was equivalent to nearly starving himself.

To his credit, Alfred did try to remain cheerful and strong, but not knowing what was happening to his sister while a serial killer was after her was killing him. He often talked about quitting his job to go stay with Alice until everything had settled down, but Alfred knew that Alice would never accept that, so he didn't.

No headway had been made on the Kirkland case or the serial killings, but there was no surprise there. Not for Alfred and Francis, at least. For the first time in a while, Francis felt hatred.

Hatred for the _imbéciles_ who thought they could handle the cases by themselves. Who did they think they were? Not only were they both Alice's cases first, but they had absolutely no idea how to handle it. And don't even get him started on the fact that they had no slight suspicion that the two cases were connected.

He realized, with a startling jolt, just how Alice must've felt, being surrounded by these people.

She must've been so lonely. She had Alfred, yes, but even he was no where near her level. Alice was always working by herself, too. The Englishwoman had been cold to him when they'd first met, but Francis was sure it was because she was sick of having her heart broken, now that he knew of her past. Alice had been treated like _merde_ by the people she loved. Mainly being her parents, her ex fiance and siblings.

Ex fiance…

He remembered their second near-kiss. Another course of irritation shot through him. He'd made sure to **_not_** give the babysitter a tip that night.

Her chapped lips brushing his still ran through his mind.

Alice smelt of liquor and cigarettes. It was a shocking, not very feminine smell, but it was Alice, and Francis loved Alice.

It was a bold declaration, even for him.

He'd only told a few people in his life that he loved them, despite his mission to spread _amour_. Alice was different. He wanted to tell someone, anyone, that he was in love. It hurt to keep his feelings bottled up inside him. Francis wanted to the world to know that he was in love with Alice Kirkland, the not very-feminine, eccentric Englishwoman.

Francis had been on and off the fence on what to do with his new-found information for a while, now.

But after the second almost kiss, he knew. Francis would ask her out to a nice dinner and dance and yes, he would be clear that it was indeed a date. He wasn't going to beat around the bush anymore. He was nearly sure she felt the same way about him that he felt about her.

Mathew would approve, Francis was sure.

His son liked Alice, a lot, actually. He loved listening to her play the violin and read stories to him. It was surprising how quickly the three had bonded in just a week.

Matthew had become bolder, as playing the violin was constantly pushing his tight little shell. He'd made his liking of Alice very, very clear to his papa. Matthew used to purposely sit on the ends of the sofa, forcing the two to sit together. When they had gone on walks, he would take Francis' hand in one of his and Alice's in the other.

But, now… Matthew didn't nearly smile as much as he used to and his papa found himself feeling the same way.

XXX

Alfred felt like dying.

That was a slight exaggeration, of course, but just slightly. He couldn't sleep, knowing that Alice was all by herself in some dingy, disgusting apartment. Defenseless and being hunted. Hunted. He remembered the gutted bodies of Isabella, Olivia and Vanessa. Deep, terrifying shudders coursed through him every time he thought about them.

What if Alice ended up like that?

Alfred remembered her face the last time they saw each other, when she'd told him that she was on the killer's hit list. She tried to hide her fear, she always did, but it didn't work. Not on Alfred. He had known and grown up with her for twenty fucking years and she still tried to put on brave faces around him.

For him.

It pissed him off whenever she did that. Her shaky, wide green eyes had avoided his gaze slightly. She looked haggard, tired and angry. Angrier than he'd ever seen her before. Whatever she knew, whatever treacherous secrets that she'd learned about the killer…they were slowly eating away at her. Alice never said anything unless she was sure about it.

She was sure she was going to die.

That enough was all Alfred needed to run out of his home and find Alice and hide her for the rest of her life. " _Dorogoy?_ " Ivan poked his head into the room, concern etched on his pale face. He was wearing an informal black and white tux. "Are you ready yet?"

"Oh, yeah." Alfred gave his boyfriend a wide smile. "I'm ready whenever you are, hun."

It was date night and it was Ivan's turn to pay for dinner, but Alfred wasn't in the mood. The Russian observed his boyfriend carefully as they rode in the cab. His violet eyes narrowed in irritation and worry. Not at the American, no, never. But at Alice and this serial killer. When Alice had been shot, he'd been seriously pissed off because it ended up making Alfred skip at least five meals and Ivan had nearly worried himself to death when his lover didn't come home from work that day.

Still, he knew he couldn't blame Alice for that.

However, he could blame her for telling Alfred about this serial killer after her. The information had been slowly dragging Alfred down, covering him in a syrup of depression and anxiety. Ivan still remembered the first time Alice and him had met, officially.

 _The atmosphere was thick between the Brit and the Russian. Alfred had dragged the both of them into a meeting and then suddenly said he had to go to the bathroom and left the two strangers to deal with one another._

 _Ivan didn't like the woman in front of him. He'd been dating Alfred for a year and he had told Ivan about how his sister (who wasn't actually related to him by blood or was even his sister, at all) had disappeared. He had to pick up the pieces when she left and now she was back, and for what? Did she plan on stealing Alfred back, ha,_ _ad zamerznet, prezhde chem Ivan nad pozvolit' etomu sluchit'sya._

 _Alice could feel bullets of sweat run down her back as the tall, dark Russian man glared at her. "…So, you've been dating Alfred for a while now…" She attempted an ice breaker._

 _"Da." Ivan glowered at her, "For a year now. And I love him and he loves me."_

 _Ah. So that's what this was about. She could feel her body relax. "That's good to hear," Alice gave him a genuine smile. "I'm glad you make him happy. All his past boyfriends have been a bunch of duds; you know? You must be someone very special."_

 _"Da." Ivan didn't know how to feel about that comment. She sounded like a protective mother, but she was giving off the feelings of…permission? Kakogo cherta?_

 _"I don't see why you're getting so defensive," shrugged Alice, "I don't love Alfred in that way. We've always been brother and sister. If you want proof, I can show you my engagement ring."_

 _"You're getting married?" Ivan felt a huge sense of relief._

 _"No," a pained look danced across her face for a moment. "No, he and I…I broke off the engagement. Listen, I'm going to be perfectly upfront with you."_

 _Ivan felt his back straighten and an evil aura surround him…_

 _Until he noticed the even bigger one surrounding the blonde woman in a cloud of dark, dangerous gloom. "If you want to date my brother, fine, **but if I hear any word of you harming him or making him upset in anyway, I will destroy you.** " The aura dissipated, but there still was a terrifying smirk on her face and an even worse glint in her bright eyes. She looked like a demon. "So, we have an understanding, yeah?"_

 _By the end of it all, the giant man was shivering in fear, nodding his head furiously._


	36. Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

Alice wasn't particularly known for being all that rebellious.

That is to say, she was never known for being caught being rebellious. She'd been a well-mannered child who listened to her father, unlike all her other siblings, which was a huge relief for Fergus. All his other four children had terrifying stages of rebellion, even Dylan, though that only lasted a month. The worst thing that Alice had ever (openly) done was refuse to eat a spinach omelet…

She generally listened to what Lovino said. He was a friend and she trusted him. But he was hiding something from her. Alice knew that it must've been a deadly secret and that she probably should listen to Lovino if she still wanted her hide at the end of all this bloody nonsense.

Alice couldn't care less about that.

It didn't matter whether she was alive or not at the end of this. The only thing that mattered to her was her siblings and justice. If she died, she'd die only after rescuing them and making the fucking bastard pay for what he did.

Elizabeta and Kiku sat across from her, sharing identical frowns. It was comical, really, as though she were a schoolgirl being scolded by her parents for pulling another girl's pigtails during recess. "Why are we here?" Elizabeta's voice cut through the tense silence, her accent covering her words thickly, like syrup.

"I just need to ask you a few questions concerning this…recent disturbance." Recent disturbance. That was a dramatically understated name for a psychotic, stalking serial killer.

"I thought you were taken off the case?" Kiku's eyebrow raised in question.

"Formally, yes." Alice's bright green eyes narrowed into slits. "But I haven't done this fucking job within the legal rules since I started. I don't plan on changing that now."

A small smile nearly crossed Elizabeta's face. "What do you need to know, _elvtárs_?"

There was really no easy way of putting this. "Who was Venziano Vargas?" The two Mafia members visibly flinched. Their eyes went wide and they froze in fear. Ah.

" _Dono yō ni sono namae o shitte imasu ka?_ " Kiku was the first to speak, his dark eyes showing nothing but anger and distrust. Gold mine.

"It was in one of the files that Lovino gave me," shrugged Alice, trying to play it off. "It interested me. I think it might be connected to the case."

"How?" Elizabeta hissed, "He's dead. He has been for several years."

"It doesn't have to be him. Maybe someone who was close to him," Alice kept her voice level, even though it was hard. "Please. I need to know. Even just a little bit."

"We're not allowed to disclose zat information." The Hungarian glared, but it softened slightly. She understood the pains of losing and worrying over loved ones.

"I know that." Alice nodded, leaning in unconsciously. "I won't ask for much. Is there anything-anything at all that you can tell me. Something that won't get you in trouble with Lovino, but will still help me find this psycho bastard?"

They glanced at each other anxiously. Kiku turned back to Alice. "We can only terr you how he died, and that's it."

"That's all I need.'' Alice nodded vigorously, her chest filling up with fluttery excitement.

Elizabeta sighed. "He was on a mission, one that Lovino didn't approve of. Most of us didn't agree with it, but Venziano insisted. We couldn't stop him."

"He and a few others gathered in Itary," Kiku glared down at the cold tea in his cup. "They arr died. Venziano was shot in the head by an enemy sniper. It went straight through and he ferr onto the ground, riferess."

The Hungarian woman nodded. "It was terrible. A lot of people loved and respected the Vargas family, well, as much as us Mafia could love." She paused, "It took Lovino forever to establish his true power hold again. Venziano nearly destroyed the kingdom that the Vargas family took centuries to build all in a matter of days."

"That's why he doesn't like to talk about it?" Alice could feel her eyebrows raise.

" _Hai_ ," Kiku muttered. "After Venziano died, he was thrown into the Atrantic Ocean. He wasn't even given a proper buriar, Rovino was so angry. There is no way he's stirr arive today."

Alice felt a feeling of disappointment, but she didn't break her promise. That was all the information she was getting out of those two.

 **Translations:**

 _Elvtárs_? = Comerade?

 _Dono yō ni sono namae o shitte imasu ka?_ = How do you know his name?

 _Hai_ = Yes.


	37. Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

Alice made a promise.

And she was a Kirkland. Kirklands' were many things. They were drunkards; the first ones to start a fight in a pub and the last ones standing at the end; they were dangerous; they didn't get along with many people, least of all their own family; and they were terrible cooks.

But a Kirkland **_never_** went back on their promise.

She would never ask Elizabeta and Kiku about Venziano again, but she never promised she wouldn't ask anyone else on the matter. It was a big stretch, yes, but she knew she had to do it. Alice couldn't ask Berwald, he'd already left to Greenland two days after they had talked. Asking Kiku's siblings would be stupid and unfruitful. Asking Antonio, Feliciano, and Ludwig would be pretty much asking for murder.

That left her with one choice.

The British woman took out her crowbar and pried open the old, nastily painted window. It creaked and groaned, making her wince with every noise, but nonetheless opened. She took the crowbar and placed it on the ground, now supporting the window frame with her left hand. Lightly, Alice's feet touched the soft, plush carpet. She took the crowbar and placed it back under the window frame.

You never knew when you'd need a quick dash to safety.

She glanced around the office, frowning. It was filled with thick miasma of herbal incense. Gold and red painted the room, ancient Chinese decorations filled the room. "Aiyah!" A thick Chinese accent called out in alarm. Yao stared at her, pointing and looking surprised. "What are you doing here?!"

"Woah, calm down." Alice held her hands up in surrender. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You." He glared. "I told you-!"

"Not to come here anymore, I get it." She pushed down the strong urge to roll her eyes. "But listen, I need your help."

"Why the hell should I help you, aru!" The older man cried, eyes in slits. "Your brother-"

"-Is an idiot. Trust me, I know. I have to live with him, after all." This time she did roll her eyes. "But I'm not here to drink your liquor or start a bar fight."

The Chinese man was going to protest, but she cut him off again. "I'm friends with Lovino. Lovino Vargas."

He frowned and backed up, posture softening slightly. "Friends with Romulus' kid…?"

"Uh, yes, we met in Italy a few years back. I saved Ludwig and Feliciano from a gunfight." She said cautiously. "I'm also a friend of your son, Kiku."

Yao had completely relaxed now. "What do you want?"

"I've been working on this case. A serial killer. Originally, I thought it might've been Vash, but…" She didn't continue. "Anyways, there is a possibility that this killer will hurt someone. And by someone, I mean Lovino and Feliciano."

"Hurt Vargas' kids? Pah!" Yao shook his head, "Why don't you just go home, you don't know what dangers you're getting yourself into."

"My name is Alice Kirkland, Mr. Wang." Her voice steeled, "I'm the youngest child of Detective Fergus Kirkland. Name ring a bell?"

Yao's eyes went wide and he began to stutter. "Y-Y-Y-You-!"

"I know what I've gotten myself into, and frankly I don't give a damn. This bastard not only killed four innocent people, he had the fucking nerve to lay a finger on my family and my home." Alice paused to take a deep breath, but her Kelly green eyes were on fire still. "I'm going to get the information I want, whether you like it or not. So, are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?"

The former Mafia member watched her for several minutes, almost as though he couldn't believe his eyes. As though he was seeing a ghost. Her heart wrenched, but she managed to hide it. " _Rúcǐ nǎorén, jiù xiàng nǐ de fùqīn…_ " He muttered before looking back up at her. "Why don't you take a seat, Ms. Kirkland?"

She ignored him. "You've heard of Venziano Vargas, correct?"

Yao gave a hesitant nod, still watching her warily. "He was Romulus' nephew. I only met him a few times, aru, but he left a…lasting impression."

"I can tell." She muttered to herself, a shudder nearly wracking through her body as she remembered those red eyes. Scarlet red, like blood.

"I don't know the details, aru, but some years ago, the kid stirred up some trouble in the Mafia." Yao continued, "He ended up causing a civil war. Admittedly, he had an army about a third the size of Lovino's, but Venziano still caused quite a bit of destruction. Kiku was gone most of the time during the war, supporting Lovino, aiyah."

Alice tried to keep a straight face. "How long was the war?"

"Around three years." The Chinese man said, "It would've gone on longer, I suspect, but Venziano was abruptly killed during one of the gunfights. I couldn't tell you where it happened."

"Can you tell me who killed him?"

"…" Yao paused. "Vash Zwingli."


	38. Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

Alice trudged into the library, boots covered in snow and soot.

She specifically picked a time when Mira wasn't working. Alice didn't have time for chats over tea and scones. She had a mission. The detective – or was she a vigilante, now? Alfred would like that.

Anyways, Alice knew that she was close. You always knew when you were close. A little buzz would just kind of hang out in the back of your mind. Subconsciously, little pieces would fit their way into the puzzle, even when you weren't actively thinking about it.

It was about damn time, too.

Six months, two weeks, five days and three hours from the day she first went to Isabelle Blackwater's house, actually. Her father would be disappointed, probably. He never had a case go on for this long. Granted, she didn't think he ever tangled with shady Mafia members (let alone the Vargas' Mafia), a bunch of family drama, relationship problems, get shot twice or even have a serial killer who liked to gut things chase after him.

But she shouldn't be complaining. Not yet, anyway. Alice was still alive. She was still sane enough to find a psychopath, even though she could feel herself slipping away. Alice was still functioning well enough to carry out her mission. It was the only thing holding her together, now.

The Englishwoman walked past several people, heading up to the loft. Criminal Records Worldwide. She sighed, figure sagging as she gazed at the seemingly endless books, parchment rolls and newspaper articles. This would take a while.

XXX

Lovino's jaw was clenched firmly. He hung up the phone. " _Lei cazzo mi ignorò._ "

"What do you expect, _cariño_? She's British. And a Kirkland." Antonio tried to console his husband, speaking softly. "As much as I hate to admit it, the _bruja_ is stronger than steel and has an attitude of a lion. There was no way you could stop her, even if you tried."

"She could've at least tried to have been more discreet about disobeying my orders. She just plainly states that she'll just do whatever the fuck she wants!" Lovino's amber eyes burned.

Of course, they both knew that that was just how Alice was. She was bitter, like the Earl Grey that she was addicted to or the cigarettes that she smoked. Alice was depressing and cynical, she nearly only spoke the truth, with an overdose of sarcasm. She'd never do something if you asked her to do it – and certainly not properly - even if you had managed to get her to do a small task. But once she set her mind to something, there was no stopping her. Alice was an introvert, keeping to herself and simply observing, yes, but there was one thing that she had. One thing that not Lovino, or Antonio, or anyone else could ever change.

Alice had a lion's heart and a rage with flames stronger than the ones in Hell.

"Sir!" A man ran in, wearing the typical all black uniform with a red tie that Lovino had his men wear. Hey, they were bloodthirsty killers, but at least they did it in style.

"What is it?" Antonio's voice cut sharp, Spanish accent thick.

"I-I-I-It's you-your brother, S-S-S-Sir Vargas!"

Lovino ignored the glare from Antonio. Members of the Mafia still hadn't adjusted to the new title 'Carriedo', so Lovino figured it'd be easier just to keep it Vargas. "What about him?"

"…He's…He's missing."

XXX

Alice could feel her hands tremble as she stared down at the newspaper article beneath her.

This was it. This was the final clue. Alice was sure of it. Old, crinkled paper shook in her hands, black and faded ink still clear as day on the page.

 ** _Mafia War in Sicily!_**

 ** _…_** ** _In the summer of 18X5, a gang fight broke out in Sicily. It was a usual, warm day in Italy. That all changed when gunshots rang through Palermo at exactly 12:05pm on Saturday 32, July 18X5. The shootings took place all across Palermo, but specifically in a small part of the city, at a café called Bella Italia. No one is sure why the shootings were concentrated there, but there are theories that a target was staying in Bella Italia at the time of the breakout._**

 ** _There were three cases of injuries, mostly from running away in such a hurry. However, one brave woman was shot twice in her torso while jumping in front of two men, effectively saving their lives. The men are unknown, seemingly disappearing after the shooting. The brave woman's name is Alice Kirkland, a world renown violinist…_**

Alice felt as though all the air had jumped out of her lungs. "…Oh…"


	39. Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

The cold wind whipped violently against her cheeks.

Alice ignored the feeling, her mind racing. Everything had fallen into place. Almost. She knew everything she needed to know, though. Someone was getting revenge for Venziano. Someone who loved him enough to murder several people emotionless. Dialing numbers on her phone while navigating her bike through the busy, angry streets of London wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do.

Nevertheless, she managed. "Yes?" One of the council member's voices crackled on the other end. There were too many of them to actually remember, especially when they weren't particularly important in her daily work.

"Code red." She hissed, simply, dodging another lamppost. Close one.

"Wha-?!" There was a tumble of papers on the other end. "Kirkland? What are you doing?! You don't work for me anymore! We don't have a code red in the first place."

 ** _"_** ** _Oi, you fat pile of pudding, let's get one thing fucking straight: I never worked for you in the first damn place."_** She growled before she could stop herself. "And, yes, we now officially have a code red. It's fucking scarlet."

"…Since when?" Came his hesitant, tired sigh from the other end.

"Just now." Alice said. "And don't you dare sigh with me, unless you want video footage of you and your old secretary having a little bit of hanky panky broadcasted all over London."

"What – how in the world did you-!"

She cut him off. "Call all of my emergency contacts and tell them to come to the building. Nobody leaves or enters the building. Understand?"

"I understand. Code red."

"Good man." Her frigid fingers hung up and dialed the next number. Ah, another pesky lamppost.

" _Che cazzo è?! Non ho tempo per la vostra merda._ " Lovino's voice yelled at her from the other side.

 ** _"_** ** _No. You will fucking listen to me. My job would've been so much easier if you would stop with your damn secrets, but no."_** Alice growled. **_"So, unless you want a pissed, homicidal maniac and some bloke who's out for revenge on your ass, you better fucking do what I say. Yeah?"_**

"…Yeah." There was a slight tremble in Lovino's voice, she noticed with a smug grin.

"Good." She said, "Here's what you're going to do."

XXX

Alice crashed through the door of the Royal Justice and Crime Investigation Building of London. Literally.

Everyone stared, gaping at her in horror. All, except for one. "Alice!" Alfred crashed through the swarm of people and tackled the Brit into probably the tightest hug of her entire life. She squeezed him back with the same amount of vigor. "I missed you." He whispered, voice soft and cracking.

"Yeah," She smiled, as though there wasn't a murderer lose and ready to kill again. "I missed you too, Alfie."

"What the hell is going on?" Luka stormed to the front of the crowd, her husband trying to hold her back. Uselessly, the Brit might add. "Why are we here?" A round of angry cries agreed.

"I have to get home!"

"I don't know you people! Why the hell am I here?"

"You're not supposed to be here, anyway!"

"That's right, she's the crazy ass lady!"

Just before Alice could say something, Alfred's voice boomed through the giant halls. **_"Everybody shut the fuck up!"_** He slammed his giant, patriotic arm into Mary Sue's desk, effectively smashing it into tiny bits. "Listen to what she has to say, or else…You'll have to answer to me. Any objections?"

Not a sound was made.

"Nice." Alice nodded in approval, looking at the shattered wood chip pile. "…When's the last cup of coffee you've had?"

"Not soon enough," Alfred grumbled, pouting slightly. "So, what gives?"

"Oh, yes. I forgot about that." She turned back to the crowd. "As I'm sure you all know, there's a serial killer on the loose right now. All of you are in danger. If you don't want to be killed, stay inside." Alice stormed up to her office, ignoring the looks that followed her.

Damn. It felt good to be back.

Alfred jogged to catch up with her. "You found out something."

"A lot of somethings, actually." She muttered dryly.

"Care to enlighten me, oh wise one?" He asked.

"Oh, how I missed this." Alice grinned, almost with an evil grin in her eye.

Alfred nearly smiled. "Talking to your brother?"

"I was talking about leaving behind a trail of clueless idiots, actually." She watched his face fall slightly. "But, yes, I missed you."

The smile was back as if she hadn't said anything slightly insulting in the past few seconds. "So, what's the skinny?"

"Oh, you know." Alice shrugged before kicking her office door open. "Lifetime long grudges from my time in Europe, serial killings, underground gangs. Just the usual."

"Ah." Alfred nodded in understanding. "…Wait – What?!"

She waved a hand nonchalantly. "I'll explain later. Where's Francis?"

"What do you mean?" Alfred frowned at her.

"Francis Bonnefoy? Frog? Francey-pants?" She glared at his blank face, "The one who practically drinks wine with everything? Even with wine."

"I know who you're talking about." Alfred huffed. "I just don't understand. Isn't he with you?"

"No." She could feel something cold slither up her spine. "Where on Earth did you get that idea?"

"Alice, I haven't seen Francis 'round here since he went to deliver that letter to your apartment." Alfred's face lost all blood after her saw the horror slowly etching onto his sister's face. "We thought he was with you…"

Suddenly, the phone rang.


	40. Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

Her hand darted to the phone before her brain even processed it. "Yes?"

"Alice."

"Francis." Her voice shook. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"Ze game is drawing to a close, little bunny." His voice shook and contained no personality.

"You're reading lines." It wasn't a question.

Back where Francis was, several miles away surrounded by ice and salty sea water, he was chained.

The Frenchman was chained with rusty handcuffs to the wall. He sat in a small, rusty little grey room. The other Kirklands sat in the room with him, staring anxiously. A robust blonde man with blue eyes and a trembling Italian sat in the corner, huddling closer to each other. Their wedding rings glinted in the dim lighting.

A man, wearing an eagle mask, nudged him with a gun. To the head. Continue.

"You – You're a genius, really." Francis stuttered, glaring down at the chicken scratch the insane man was forcing him to read. "I never expected you to get zis far."

"Really?" Her pissed off voice crackled over the speaker phone so that the whole room could hear her. "You stalked me for years and you never included this tidbit in your calculations?"

"You zink me a fool?"

"You're not stupid, I'll give you that." Her voice continued, "Just not smarter than me."

"Perhaps. But I am angrier zan you, and anger does a lot of good to you. Bad for you I suppose, zough."

She snarled. "You had the audacity to hurt my family… to hurt the people I care about. And I'm sure Feliciano and Ludwig are in there, as well."

The masked man nodded, signaling Francis. "Yes. Zey are here."

"Well, now you're just lowering your IQ by the second." Alice said. "Now you have a pissed off Italian man, with an army of other pissed of people, I might add."

The masked man made another signal. "And you?"

"Oh, I'm a Kirkland. I'm constantly pissed off." A round of giggles nearly made its way throughout the tiny, crowded and grey room. Her voice turned serious. **_"But you hurt my family, and I swear that once I get my hands on you, you'll wish I had just gutted you with a plastic spoon while you were alive."_**

"It's a date zen?" For once the killer spoke, his accent rumbling throughout the room.

Back in Alice's office, she bit back a retort about how she only dated Frenchman by the name of Francis Bonnefoy. She stopped herself. Really, the rush of getting back to her usual routine and bossing idiots around was making her want to do some stupid decisions. "What time?"

"Right after I've collected the final guest." The phone line went dead.

Alfred looked startled. "What did he mean by that?" He looked at her face. "Alice, what did he mean?"

"I don't know." She frowned. "Is there anyone we forgot? Anyone who –!" A startled look of realization crossed her face.

"What? What is it?"

…

…

…

"…Where's Matthew?"


	41. Chapter 40

CHAPTER 40

The Englishwoman stormed through the apartment lobby, not caring about how many people she knocked over.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." She repeated over and over, heartbeat pounding in her ears. Not Matthew. Not the sweet little boy with the eyes of his father and smile of the sun on a lazy summer day. Alice crashed into the elevator, rapidly hitting the floor button, as if it'd actually help her get there faster. "Fuck." With jittery hands, she pulled out her gun. It wasn't her usual handgun; she'd ruined that one a few weeks back. But it would do the job. Alice loaded up the gun, hands trembling as the bullets fell into place.

The ding signaled and the elevator doors slid open.

She bolted. Her legs carried her to Francis' apartment. The door was unlocked and slightly cracked open, revealing a disheveled mess. **_No. Not again._**

Alice kicked open the door, her gun in her hand and ready to put some holes in a motherfucker. "Matthew!" Loud rustling came from further in the apartment. Matthew's room. She slammed into the room.

It happened in a matter of seconds. Alice saw a figure bent over Matthew, who was fighting and kicking and terrified. It made her blood boil. How dare this fucker. She shot twice. The bullets flew through the air and pierced the masked bastard in his left calf. He let out a strangled cry and a string of muffled, foreign curses.

"Matthew!" She called, " _Recevez par ici!_ " The little boy scurried over, quickly. He was sobbing loudly and clutching onto her leg. The masked bastard started to stir again. Alice scooped up Matthew and held him firmly in her hands. She didn't notice that they were both trembling, one from rage and another from fear. Matthew buried his wet face in the collar of her neck, his hands clutching her coat tightly.

The masked man growled, looking up at her. She didn't need to see his face to know he was seething in anger and murderous intent. Alice ran out of the room. The Brit dodged a knocked over chair and nearly made it across the apartment. Nearly. The bastard's hand reached out just so that his hand yanked her back by her trench coat collar.

A pained groan left her lips as Alice fell back onto the ground. "Shit." She hissed. Something warm was spreading through her senses. Blearily, Alice looked down to the source. Ruby red liquid was seeping through the gunshot wound. "Fuck." Matthew was staring at it with wide eyes. Fear.

 ** _"_** ** _You filthy bitch!"_** The man screamed behind her, limping his way towards them.

Thinking quickly, Alice practically shoved her gun into Matthew's arms. " _Écoutez-moi attentivement, Matthew. Je veux que vous enfuir et aller au département de la police, d'accord?_ " She said, glancing back to the bastard every once in a while. Alice got back up and put the trembling boy down at the door. She tried to look calm, she didn't need to scare him anymore. " _C'est très important. Trouver un homme avec des cheveux blonds et un bras de robot géant, d'accord? Les ramener à l'appartement, ils sauront quoi faire._ "

Matthew shook his head defiantly, looking up at her with stubborn concern.

God, he was so much like the Frog. " _Je ne demandais pas. Aller! Sors d'ici!_ " She yelled, glaring back at the masked man before effectively shutting the little boy out of the apartment and then, with shaky hands, locked it.

"That was quite the stupid thing to do." He hissed at her. A blade was clutched in his pale hand. It was the same knife that she'd seen over and over again. The same knife that had killed those girls. He was planning to kill her with that knife.

"Yes. Yes, it was." She decided not to say anything. She wanted this game to end already. She wanted to know where her siblings were. Where Francis was. "This is the first time we've met then, huh? Well, formally, at least."

"I care not for your small talk."

"And neither do I." She said, dashing off to the kitchen. She looked around for a knife. There was nothing besides those cruddy, bright colored and kid-friendly-but-completely-and-untterly-useless-in-the-case-of-defending-yourself-from-a-vicious-murdering-psychopath knives. "God damn it, Francis." She grabbed the next deadliest thing: a large wooden spoon. Well. That was it. She was positively fucked, now wasn't she?

A deep chuckle came from behind her. "What'll you do with that, little bunny?"

"Don't. Bloody. Call. Me. That." She hissed, glaring at him. "Only a few people can call me that and last time I checked, murdering psychopaths weren't on my list."

"So full of humor. It's a wonderful thing, isn't it?" The man walked closer to her. Alice tensed, her body wound up like those horrible jack in the box toys that nobody with a proper childhood and brain ever liked. "It disguises the pain. Makes it all better, doesn't it?"

She didn't like all this talking. She launched forward, growling and wielding the wooden spoon like a club. The man dodged, barely. Alice felt her veins course with fury. This motherfucker hurt her family. He hurt Francis. He tried to hurt Matthew. He killed three innocent women and a man and countless others. He wasn't going to hurt anyone again.

Not on her watch.

The wooden spoon struck out, whirling the knife out of his hands. Alice nearly grinned, but then suddenly she found herself coming face to face with the kitchen counter and then everything went black.

 **Translations:**

 _Recevez par ici!_ = Get over here!

 _Écoutez-moi attentivement, Matthew. Je veux que vous enfuir et aller au département de la police, d'accord?_ = Listen to me carefully, Matthew. I want you to run away and go to the police department, right?

 _C'est très important. Trouver un homme avec des cheveux blonds et un bras de robot géant, d'accord? Les ramener à l'appartement, ils sauront quoi faire._ = Its very important. Find a man with blond hair and a giant robot arm, okay? bring them to the apartment, they will know what to do.

 _Je ne demandais pas. Aller! Sors d'ici!_ = I did not ask. Go! Get out of here!


	42. Chapter 41

CHAPTER 42

Alice dodged behind one of the rotten fish containers just before the masked man walked through there.

He walked into the storage room. His heavy boots pulverized the ground as he walked. He walked like someone who had had military experience. His shoulders were back, chest puffed out. He marched, though not intentionally, and with a slight limp. Alice felt a smug smirk cross her face when she noticed the bleeding, barely bandaged wound is his leg.

Serves the bastard right.

He wore shredded jeans and a weathered army jacket. It was too blurry to see, but Alice could make out that there were golden letters written on the sleeves. Didn't help that it looked like it was in a foreign language, either. The man's pale hands peaked out from his long sleeves. They were knarled and deadly pale. It was so bad you could see the veins if it weren't for the…For the blood.

Dried blood stained his hands and covered the little crevices in his fingernails.

The sick bastard didn't even bother to clean himself up. Alice couldn't see his face; it was still shielded by an eagle mask. Strange. Why an eagle? What did an eagle stand for?

Freedom, victory, earthly peace or whatever…Nope, she couldn't remember anything about eagles being the spirit animal of a serial killer.

A scurrying noise came from behind her. Alice could swear time stopped. The killer stomped forward in his wounded, unconscious march. His feet pounded against the ground until he stopped right in front of her quiet little shelter. _Oh, God._ Alice felt herself try to make itself look as small as possible, so as not to be seen.

This was it. This was how she was going to die.

She, one of the greatest detectives in all of British history, was going to die because of a **_fucking rodent_**. She was a Kirkland! She was going to be the only Kirkland to have not died from a pub fight, drinking all her liver away, getting heart disease, or a mixture of all those things combined.

Fuck. She swore to every god that existed, from every goddamn culture, that if she survived, she would personally make sure that all rodents on the fucking stupid planet named Earth were destroyed. Painfully.

Silence and then…the man walked away.

He stomped his way down another hall and then entered a room that she hadn't noticed earlier. Alice nearly let out a breath of relief. She needed to find a weapon and somehow contact Lovino or Alfred. Exterminating the world's rodent population and officially becoming the most religious person in the galaxy would have to wait.

Alice tiptoed down the hallway from where she came. Maybe the killer had just left the room with her sibling in it. Or maybe she'd find something else. All she knew was that heading in the same direction of a mass killer without a weapon was a stupid waste of her newly regained life.

XXX

She finally came across a new room.

It was a large red room, little bits of rust covering the corners of the room. A corner of the room was brighter and stained yellowish. She wrinkled her nose as she went closer and recognized the smell. She'd smelt it enough when she got hammered at the pubs or sometimes the stench covered one of her siblings when they finally came home from wherever. Piss.

Alice continued on, hesitantly.

A desk in the corner was covered with a bunch of random junk, like old pens, knives, and beer jugs. But that wasn't what had caught her attention. Above the desk, nine pictures were pinned to the dark, red wall. She recognized five of them. Isabelle Blackwater, Olivia Forester, Vanessa Lorelei, Vash Zwingli, and…

Alice Kirkland.

She glared at the picture. It was a photo of her when she'd just discovered her bloody, abandoned home. Her eyes were wide with terror and brimming with tears. Her skin looked paler than it ever had. Alice glared at the picture. It showed her weakness. Showed that he could scare her.

Alice looked at the other pictures. There was an older woman, probably in her mid-fifties; a young college student, and- Her blood went cold for a moment…and then she was in an inferno. A picture that looked like it had been recently taken stared straight up at her.

It was a little girl, only about four years old.

A feral growl burned in the back of her throat as she stomped over to the desk and dug through the mountain of trash. She found a rusty old gun that looked to be ten years old. The Italian word _Lupo_ was inscribed in the side. Wolf.

Alice inspected the gun further. "Fuck." There was only one bullet left. How convenient. She looked further and found an old Morse code machine. A smirk crossed her face. "What have I found here?"

XXX

Thirty minutes later, Alice snuck out of the red room.

She tiptoed down the hallway, old gun in her hand. "She's ruined it." Alice froze. The man's voice sizzled with anger. She peeked through the open doorway. The masked man was speaking, but she couldn't see who. She had some guesses.

 ** _"_** ** _She. Ruined. It."_** He hissed. **_"She ruined everything and now…Now, I'm going to make you pay for what she did."_** Alice kicked the door open.


	43. Chapter 42

CHAPTER 43

The killer whipped around to her.

 ** _"_** ** _You."_** He growled.

Alice looked behind him, body just slightly trembling in fear. Ludwig and Feliciano? Alistair, Wilma, Dylan, and Patrick were safe. Francis was safe. She nearly let out a sigh of relief, but kept her spine rigid. Alice restrained herself from looking away from the killer, keeping the old gun focused solely on him. The rust gears creaked at her in protest and she only had one shot, but that was all she needed. One shot.

"Me." Alice smirked, but confidence was the last thing she was feeling. Her mind was darting around, looking for a way to distract him until Lovino and Alfred got there. "Though I quite resent that little comment about me ruining your plans. If anything, you should've planned out your psychotic plan better."

"How the fuck did you get out?!" He yelled, anger boiling in his voice. Obviously, he wasn't effected by the gun at all. "You were chained! I knocked you unconscious."

"Yeah, thanks for that. I've got a killer headache, right now." Alice kept her voice steady and casual, but it held her usual sarcastic tone. "You wouldn't happen to have any cigars, would you?"

"I'm in no playing mood, bitch."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow, moving further into the room. "But isn't this what this all is? A game."

"No." He continued, "It's revenge."

She nearly growled. "Oh, really? Killing four innocent people, ten years of stalking and kidnapping seven people is your version of revenge? How sick and tasteless."

"You question my methods?" You could hear his eyebrow raise.

"Oh, I don't question it. I think it's completely bonkers, really." She continued, "If you weren't so damn stupid, maybe you could have actually gotten away with this whole business."

"How so?" He snarled at her, unconsciously taking a step closer.

"First off, you kidnapped all of my siblings at the same time." Alice shook her head, "Or even the fact that you kidnapped them first. You knew they would grab my attention, more so than anyone else. You knew that I would find you faster that way."

"I was sick of waiting."

She rolled her eyes. "Let's face it, you fucked up. Bad." Alice smirked at him, her bright green eyes sharper than flint. "You could've gone after Alfred first, since I wouldn't have thought much of it. He takes days off all the time. But instead, you attacked my immediate family. And all at once."

"What would it have mattered when you were thrown out of your own home by your family?" The killer threw back.

"I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you, so listen up this once, got it?" She took satisfaction in the sniggers that came from her siblings. "You spent ten years _– ten fucking years –_ obsessing over how to kill me and Zwingli, but you fucked up the last couple of months because you couldn't hold yourself back. You know that I had the Mafia watching my siblings. You know that I would have guards on them, watching, so don't make the bloody excuse that you couldn't get my attention unless you took all of them. You messed up and now I'm here, with a gun and this odd itch to kill you."

"It wouldn't have nearly have been as sweet to wait any longer. I would have been just some random stranger who came to kill you. No, I needed to kill you. I will kill you today." He continued, **_"I want to hear you scream for death."_**

" _Vous bâtard malade!_ " Francis hissed, teeth barred. At the same time, there was a chorus of rage from her siblings.

Alice nearly smiled, but snapped the killer's attention back to her before he hurt one of them. "Cheery." She said, "But I doubt that'll happen."

"Oh?"

"I contacted Lovino, you know, the head of the Vagras Mafia. He'll be with not only the entire Mafia, but an ass-load of Spanish sky-pirates to come and rip you to shreds." She said, "And not to mention the Royal London Police Force. One of them has a ginormous metal arm, which, by the way, can smash a desk into splinters."

The masked man let out a low, throaty growl. "It won't matter. You'll all be dead by the time they arrive."

"Maybe." Alice agreed. "But just sitting here is boring. Let's play one last game."

Alice took one last look at the group around her. Feliciano was trembling, while holding onto Ludwig. Francis' rich eyes were trained on her, wide and worried, but that wasn't any different than usual.

She wondered if he'd remember her, some thirty years later on in his life when he was happily married with some woman (or man, it was a coin toss with the Frog). If he'd remember the sound of her violin and the way that they almost had something.

Almost.

Her eyes finally rested on her family. She'd missed so much these past years, hadn't she? So busy making a living for them that she hardly ever saw them, let alone think about them. Alice felt her mind flash back to a simpler time.

To a place where they were children and the only thing they had to worry about was schoolwork. They would run around in the park, after they had convinced Alice to sneak out from her room, playing imaginary games. Alistair would pretend to be a knight, strong and noble, a stick sword in his hand and his forest green eyes gleaming. Dylan would either play an old wise man or dragon, depending on what they were playing. It was a perfect role for the boy, his soft jade eyes and smile. The twins would play the devilish leprechauns (or sometimes elves, they changed their minds a lot), bright clover eyes sparkling with an evil gleam.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Alice whispered three words. _I love you_.

She turned away from her brothers and sister. "Tag. You're it." The bullet shot out from her gun and whirled through the air, knocking out the keys from his hand. An angry roar escaped his lips and he charged.

Alice ran.


	44. Chapter 43

CHAPTER 45

Searing pain sizzled through her body as she stumbled into a counter.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. She couldn't feel anything but the blade. The sharp, stinging blade. Strangled, blood-chocked gasps came from Alice as she slowly turned around to look at Lutz.

Rage bubbled in her as her eyes landed on his smug face.

She was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die. And yet, Alice found that for some reason, she wasn't all that terrified about it. Dying. Strangely, she felt less angry about it than accepting. No, accepting wasn't the word. She would never accept her own death. But she did come to the realization of it. Realization. It wasn't something too far off, now was it? But she knew that she was going to die, just not yet. She still had a job to do. A mission to complete before she left the world and she'd be damned if she couldn't finish what the bastard in front of her started.

"Not so fast, blondie." Alice hissed, ready to swing a fist.

Suddenly, she saw everything. The stars and how they had been mashed together to create such a twisted world; the creation of deities from every culture; mythological beast that were thousands of years old; from the first human to the last, and nebulas and baby galaxies. A vast array of colors and colors that weren't-exactly-colors went by her mind. There was a heat growing. She could feel her body warming up quickly, but in a harsh, painful way. It throbbed in her chest, and then in her whole upper body, then lower. And before she knew it, her whole body was throbbing and thrashing inside, like something was dying to get out. Like something inside her was seeking release. She was even faintly aware of the fact that her hand may or may not have been glowing.

And then there was fire.

The flames lashed out from her body, and surrounded the kitchen in blazing tongues. Alice felt no pain. Lutz screamed a blood churning scream, but she heard nothing. The pain still throbbed in her body, but it was numbed. She was at peace. She was dying. Finally, this was it. She was dying after finally getting revenge on a serial killer in a flaming bakery.

 _Not bad for a Kirkland,_ Alice thought softly, _probably the first of its kind, actually._

Everything went dark, but music could be heard.

 _Memories like voices that call on the wind_

 _Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns_

 _Whispered and tossed on the tide coming in_

 _Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

She'd never heard the voice before, but it instantly put her at ease for some odd reason. She did however, remember the sound of that violin in the background. Alice knew who was singing, now. She could imagine it. A dark-blonde woman, with long and curly hair and bright green eyes like hers. The woman was smiling down on her five children: A boy with fiery red hair, a younger boy with fluffy auburn hair, and two ginger twins. And a little baby with curly blonde hair in her arms. Her father sat in the corner, all big and strong and powerful, like a bear, really. His meaty, pale hands gracefully guiding the bow along the silver strings. His bright smile filled the room with happiness.

 _Voices like songs that are heard in the dawn_

 _Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns_

 _Singing the secrets of children unborn_

 _Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

Faces played back in her memory. Alfred, with his bright eyes and hair, ready to serve the world a buffet of justice and freedom. She wondered what he would do when he found her body. How he would live if she was gone. Happily, with Ivan, she supposed. Would he remember her? Alice was so, so proud of him, though she never really made it known. She really was such an idiot. Alice was surprised at how fast he had grown while she was gone. When they were kids, the brats at school would always kick and punch him when she wasn't there. It was almost humorous watching them scurry away when she found out about they did to her little brother. She'd miss Alfred.

 _Dreams like the memories once born on the wind_

 _Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns_

 _Lovers and children and copper and tin_

 _Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

Her mind changed to the life that she could have had. To an alternate universe. She was happy, she noticed. The other Alice lived in a grand house with chandeliers and a giant garden in Australia. She was married to the conductor and they'd adopted a little boy. He was a rascal, a lot like Alfred actually. He had his father's hair and his mother's eyes. They'd named him James. He learned music, like his mother and father, but eventually decided to explore the world for science. He always did like wild animals. It'd been hard for his overprotective parents to accept, but they eventually gave their consent because James was happy. The other Alice and her husband lived to see their first grandchild before finally passing away.

 _Dreams like the castles that sleep in the sand_

 _Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns_

 _Slip through the fingers or held in the hand_

 _Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

Francis and Matthew. She could see them, posing as though they were about to have their picture taken. Francis, dressed in silks and velvets that he probably used to wear when he was still the Heir to the Bonnefoy Wine Company, held his son. The Frenchman's rich, indigo eyes glittered with happiness as he gazed down at his small son. Matthew looked peaceful, violet eyes shut and peacefully cuddling up to his father with a white polar bear in hand. They were both so sweet and kind. If she was ever made into a ghost or guardian angel or whatever was in nowadays, Alice would be damned if she let anyone hurt them. She hoped Francis would find someone to settle down and marry. It hurt her so damn much to think of him even smiling at another woman, or man, it was all the same to the French. She knew she couldn't be selfish. Wouldn't. It wasn't like it was any of her business, anyway. She was just his boss and he was just her assistant. That was the way it had always been between them and that was the way it would end. But…

But what if it had been something had been different?

What if they had changed something? One little glance, one little kiss. A simple little kiss and the whole arrangement of the universes could be dramatically changed. It was quite sad, really, her love life. She was a Kirkland, and they didn't give out their hearts to anyone. You had to fight tooth and nail and a few ribs before a Kirkland might even glance at you in that way. And they never truly got back their hearts after. A little piece of Kirkland would always stay with you, if they fell in love with you. You were more than a part of a memory to them, at that point. Even if you did the most god awful things, somewhere, no matter how small, there would be a piece of you in a Kirkland that would never ever leave. She'd only really been in love twice. Alice supposed though, that it was better to have felt that feeling one last time, than to never experience it ever again.

 _Songs like the dreams that the bow maiden spins_

 _Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns_

 _Weaving the song of the cry of the tin Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

 _Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

"Alice." Her father's rich voice called out.

The music had stopped and the scenery was turning white. In front of her was a door. A pure white door, with a pale, warm glow leaking from the cracks. Alice was standing on a marble white bridge. She looked down. Blue wispy figures coursed through the river below her, an occasional wail. She looked back up at the man standing by the door. He was beaming at her, a familiar and bright smile plastered permanently on his jolly red face. He had the same unmanageable mob of red curls piled on his head. Behind him were four people. Isabelle, Olivia, Vanessa, and Vash. They smiled softly, nodding in thanks.

She reached out, and took his hand.


	45. Chapter 44

CHAPTER 44

She ran.

She ran, chest heaving painfully. Alice could feel her heart booming from within her ribcage, sometimes faltering. The gray trees and white forest blazed past her. She felt like she was stabbed all over with small little knives. Alice couldn't feel her toes anymore, but she knew they were bleeding. Lots of blood. Her head squeezed, blood oozing on the side. The bullets wounds were never going to close, were they? She wished she had her glasses, because right now, she was sure that she was going to die in that blasted forest.

She bleeding everywhere, slowly getting frost-bite, weaponless, blind, and alone.

Yeah, she was fucked.

Alice scrapped up a hill, feeling the killer behind her. Alice's leg jotted out, hitting something and knocking back the killer. Stupidly, she looked behind her. She couldn't make out much in the blurry weather and without glasses, but she saw enough.

The man had a sculptured jaw, tousled and greasy blonde hair and glacier blue eyes. A scar ran along the side of his face, from the top part of his ear down to his pale, thin and cracked lips. Their eyes met and Alice felt like her heart had frozen, along with the rest of her body.

She swallowed, stalling for time. "You might as well tell me the name of my killer."

The man didn't protest. "Lutz Beildschmidt."

"Beildschmidt?" Alice backed up unconsciously, "Then, you mean-"

"I'm that moron's cousin." He made a gruff noise, jerking his head back to the direction from where they had run. From Ludwig. "I know what you are." He hissed at her. Alice watched his hard, cold expression, silently. **_"You're a witch. A monster. A child that should have never been born. You killed your own mother. You're a murderer, just like me."_**

"Why?" Alice managed to choke out. "Why did you do all this?"

"All those years ago, in Sicily." Lutz explained. "I watched you save those two morons. I watched, completely useless as that Swiss filth killed the man I loved."

"Venziano."

 ** _"_** ** _He. Was. Supposed. To. Rule!"_** Lutz growled. "He was meant for greatness and that stupid boy, Lovino, couldn't see that. He was too wrapped up in his own selfishness to see. To see that Venziano was the true ruler! So, now? Now, I will destroy everything Lovino loves, just as he did to me."

"And me?" Alice asked. "And Vash?"

Lutz gave a playful sneer that struck a lightning bolt of fear in her heart. "You were the bitch that just had to be there. You were so selfless and threw yourself in front of two strangers to save their lives. You couldn't just run like the rest of them. No, you and that bastard are the reason that he's dead."

He continued, "Vash needed to pay for what he did. So, I set him up with little Isabelle and Olivia. The bastard could never keep it in his pants. All I needed to do was drive him mad. He hated knives, really. His father killed his little sister with a knife. It was so easy to watch him crumble when the two women he was sleeping with be killed with knives. Pity I didn't get to watch his face as he swallowed that poison, though."

"Is that why you waited? To see me crumble?"

"No. I never truly waited." Lutz said. "I'm the one who spiked your fiancé's drink and introduced him to the soprano slut. I'm the one who arranged the 'accident' in America, the one that sent Dylan back to London. **_I've always been here_**."

Rage overtook her. "You bastard." Her hand reached out blindly and grabbed a thick stick that was about the width of her arm. She took the heavy stick and whacked him right across the head. Twice, and then took off again, this times towards a bakery. Alice pushed through the rusted, iced doors. They screeched and squealed at her, but she didn't notice. Flashes of pale and stained walls rushed past her as she dashed through the building.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't know where to go. Lutz was catching up to her and fast. He had a weapon, she didn't. Alice could hear her heart pounding in her chest. _Ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump._ "You're going to die." A voice said in her head, "Why are you even running?"

She kept going. Alice crashed into another room, this one with large and rusted metal doors. They swung behind her noisily as Alice ran through. The silvery kitchen was abandoned, completely. The drawers and appliances were trashed, swinging open. It was obvious that the place had been ransacked more than a couple of times. The building was crumpling, debris scattered across the dirty, white, hexagon tiles. Lutz crashed in from behind her. Her raw, bleeding feet pattered across the frigid tiles of the kitchen, Lutz right on her trail. She looked around wildly, but there was no knives or forks or even spatulas that could help her now.

Damn it, a Kirkland never had much luck in the kitchen.

And then... that. At first, she didn't notice it. She hadn't felt anything. And then she did, like it had always been there. Like it was a part of her body. The freezing feeling hissed in her body and for some reason, her ribcage was warmer than she remembered. Blood spurted out of her mouth and warm liquid dripped down from her torso. Alice looked down with shaky hands.

A silvery knife glinted at her in the dim light, like a grin of a cat.


	46. Chapter 45

CHAPTER 45

Searing pain sizzled through her body as she stumbled into a counter.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. She couldn't feel anything but the blade. The sharp, stinging blade. Strangled, blood-chocked gasps came from Alice as she slowly turned around to look at Lutz.

Rage bubbled in her as her eyes landed on his smug face.

She was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die. And yet, Alice found that for some reason, she wasn't all that terrified about it. Dying. Strangely, she felt less angry about it than accepting. No, accepting wasn't the word. She would never accept her own death. But she did come to the realization of it. Realization. It wasn't something too far off, now was it? But she knew that she was going to die, just not yet. She still had a job to do. A mission to complete before she left the world and she'd be damned if she couldn't finish what the bastard in front of her started.

"Not so fast, blondie." Alice hissed, ready to swing a fist.

Suddenly, she saw everything. The stars and how they had been mashed together to create such a twisted world; the creation of deities from every culture; mythological beast that were thousands of years old; from the first human to the last, and nebulas and baby galaxies. A vast array of colors and colors that weren't-exactly-colors went by her mind. There was a heat growing. She could feel her body warming up quickly, but in a harsh, painful way. It throbbed in her chest, and then in her whole upper body, then lower. And before she knew it, her whole body was throbbing and thrashing inside, like something was dying to get out. Like something inside her was seeking release. She was even faintly aware of the fact that her hand may or may not have been glowing.

And then there was fire.

The flames lashed out from her body, and surrounded the kitchen in blazing tongues. Alice felt no pain. Lutz screamed a blood churning scream, but she heard nothing. The pain still throbbed in her body, but it was numbed. She was at peace. She was dying. Finally, this was it. She was dying after finally getting revenge on a serial killer in a flaming bakery.

 _Not bad for a Kirkland,_ Alice thought softly, _probably the first of its kind, actually._

Everything went dark, but music could be heard.

 _Memories like voices that call on the wind_

 _Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns_

 _Whispered and tossed on the tide coming in_

 _Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

She'd never heard the voice before, but it instantly put her at ease for some odd reason. She did however, remember the sound of that violin in the background. Alice knew who was singing, now. She could imagine it. A dark-blonde woman, with long and curly hair and bright green eyes like hers. The woman was smiling down on her five children: A boy with fiery red hair, a younger boy with fluffy auburn hair, and two ginger twins. And a little baby with curly blonde hair in her arms. Her father sat in the corner, all big and strong and powerful, like a bear, really. His meaty, pale hands gracefully guiding the bow along the silver strings. His bright smile filled the room with happiness.

 _Voices like songs that are heard in the dawn_

 _Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns_

 _Singing the secrets of children unborn_

 _Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

Faces played back in her memory. Alfred, with his bright eyes and hair, ready to serve the world a buffet of justice and freedom. She wondered what he would do when he found her body. How he would live if she was gone. Happily, with Ivan, she supposed. Would he remember her? Alice was so, so proud of him, though she never really made it known. She really was such an idiot. Alice was surprised at how fast he had grown while she was gone. When they were kids, the brats at school would always kick and punch him when she wasn't there. It was almost humorous watching them scurry away when she found out about they did to her little brother. She'd miss Alfred.

 _Dreams like the memories once born on the wind_

 _Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns_

 _Lovers and children and copper and tin_

 _Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

Her mind changed to the life that she could have had. To an alternate universe. She was happy, she noticed. The other Alice lived in a grand house with chandeliers and a giant garden in Australia. She was married to the conductor and they'd adopted a little boy. He was a rascal, a lot like Alfred actually. He had his father's hair and his mother's eyes. They'd named him James. He learned music, like his mother and father, but eventually decided to explore the world for science. He always did like wild animals. It'd been hard for his overprotective parents to accept, but they eventually gave their consent because James was happy. The other Alice and her husband lived to see their first grandchild before finally passing away.

 _Dreams like the castles that sleep in the sand_

 _Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns_

 _Slip through the fingers or held in the hand_

 _Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

Francis and Matthew. She could see them, posing as though they were about to have their picture taken. Francis, dressed in silks and velvets that he probably used to wear when he was still the Heir to the Bonnefoy Wine Company, held his son. The Frenchman's rich, indigo eyes glittered with happiness as he gazed down at his small son. Matthew looked peaceful, violet eyes shut and peacefully cuddling up to his father with a white polar bear in hand. They were both so sweet and kind. If she was ever made into a ghost or guardian angel or whatever was in nowadays, Alice would be damned if she let anyone hurt them. She hoped Francis would find someone to settle down and marry. It hurt her so damn much to think of him even smiling at another woman, or man, it was all the same to the French. She knew she couldn't be selfish. Wouldn't. It wasn't like it was any of her business, anyway. She was just his boss and he was just her assistant. That was the way it had always been between them and that was the way it would end. But…

But what if it had been something had been different?

What if they had changed something? One little glance, one little kiss. A simple little kiss and the whole arrangement of the universes could be dramatically changed. It was quite sad, really, her love life. She was a Kirkland, and they didn't give out their hearts to anyone. You had to fight tooth and nail and a few ribs before a Kirkland might even glance at you in that way. And they never truly got back their hearts after. A little piece of Kirkland would always stay with you, if they fell in love with you. You were more than a part of a memory to them, at that point. Even if you did the most god awful things, somewhere, no matter how small, there would be a piece of you in a Kirkland that would never ever leave. She'd only really been in love twice. Alice supposed though, that it was better to have felt that feeling one last time, than to never experience it ever again.

 _Songs like the dreams that the bow maiden spins_

 _Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns_

 _Weaving the song of the cry of the tin Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

 _Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns_

"Alice." Her father's rich voice called out.

The music had stopped and the scenery was turning white. In front of her was a door. A pure white door, with a pale, warm glow leaking from the cracks. Alice was standing on a marble white bridge. She looked down. Blue wispy figures coursed through the river below her, an occasional wail. She looked back up at the man standing by the door. He was beaming at her, a familiar and bright smile plastered permanently on his jolly red face. He had the same unmanageable mob of red curls piled on his head. Behind him were four people. Isabelle, Olivia, Vanessa, and Vash. They smiled softly, nodding in thanks.

She reached out, and took his hand.


	47. Chapter 46

CHAPTER 46

Alistair's ears were ringing.

His body was crunched over in a tight, weeping ball. Alistair Fergus Kirkland was not afraid to cry, contrary to what a lot of people thought about him. The "shock blanket" that had been haphazardly tossed on him when they reached the ER laid on the floor in a forgotten hump. He was in London, now, far away from that bastard's sick playground. But still, he shivered. Alistair lifted his head. The waiting room was empty. Patty, Willy, and Dylan were just now getting treated, but it was only a couple of scratches, so it wouldn't be long. Not long before he had to break the news to them.

Alistair had talked to the doctor earlier. There was no way to save Alice. She not only suffered from a concussion, torn open fairly fresh bullet wounds (which he had no fucking knowledge to, damn it, Bunny), but that motherfucker had stabbed Alice from behind before the bakery had erupted in flames. It was amazing that she was still alive, though barely.

Alice had always been weak, physically.

Alistair still felt chills of fear spring up his spine every time she just coughed or sneezed. He could still remember how just one little bug circling around could send her down into a downward spiral that would more often than not send her to the hospital. He'd always been protective of her, because of that. He treated her different from their siblings. Alistair watched her more carefully, worried more intensely, and was generally harsher to her. But what did that matter now? Alice was dying and he couldn't do anything about it. No, he was worse than useless, he had dragged her down.

He had been responsible for kicking her out of their home, no one else was. He had helped drive her to insanity. And all because of what? A stupid grudge? It went deeper than the fact that she had done a little vanishing act on them some ten years ago. Alice acted like the older sibling, and quite frankly, she did a better job at it. She paid all the bills, he knew that, and it killed him that he was so damn fucking useless that he couldn't even help to pay them. Maybe that was what drove him to alcoholism. God, he was so pathetic.

The Scot heard footsteps. He looked up, expecting to see his siblings. It wasn't.

It was that blonde Frenchman, Francis-Something. He looked down at Alistair with weary indigo eyes and an utterly haggard expression. His eyes were dull and he didn't seem to give a rat's ass about the fact that he was caked in mud and splats of blood.

"…Aye?" He managed to croak out as Francis sat down next to him.

Francis shook his head and it looked like he was holding in tears. "…Ze doctor told me about Alice…"

"Why?" He frowned, looking up and down at the seemingly delicate man beside him. "That's confidential information."

" _Oui_ , I am one of her emergency contacts, like Alfred." He stuck his hand out to shake Alistair's. "I'm Francis Bonnefoy, your sister's assistant." It was quiet for a moment before Francis said, "She loves you, you know. All of you. She doesn't realize it, but she talks about you and your siblings. Alice went mad trying to find you when…"

He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to. Alistair gave a humorous less laugh. "Funny how that works, aen' it? Hate 'em, until they're gone."

"She never hated you." Francis said automatically. "I've known Alice for only about a year, but…Zink about it this way, if she truly hated you, why did she ever come back from Europe? Why did she check up on you after ze bastard kidnapped you? She loves you more zan you'll ever be able to comprehend; I promise you zat." And then he left, leaving Alistair to his own thoughts.

The Scotsman stood and made his way across the hospital to Alice's room. It was empty, amazingly. The American git, Alfred, had stayed in here and bawled and prayed for hours upon hours. Like a real brother would. The redhead sat down in a chair by the bed, eyes not leaving his sister's face. "Ye look so much like Ma, ye ken?" His rough, calloused hand brushed across her face.

A real brother never would've let this happen. A real brother would've protected his family from a psycho serial killer, even if it meant losing his life. "I'm so, so sorry, Bunny." The tears continued to dribble down from his face, even when the rest of the Kirkland family came marching in.

"…How is she?" Dylan broke the tense silence, noticing the tears running down his face.

Alistair looked up pitifully. "She's…she's nae gonnae mak' it. Doctor said that awfy much tissue wis torn fae th' claymore, nae ta mention a' ta ither fuckin' injuries. Thay don't hae ta technology tae save her 'n' movin` her fae this room wull murdurr her in a maiter o' minutes."

" _Uimh! Bhfuil tú ag magadh. Is é seo roinnt joke breoite... Le do thoil, Alistair, le do thoil... Inis dom go bhfuil tú ag magadh díreach._ " Wilma's bright clover eyes glistened. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't bear to see the pain that seemed to glow from her eyes. He hated to see his sister reduced to a bleeding body on the edge of death, waiting for the one last string holding her there to snap. He hated to see Wilma look so broken, so helpless.

He hated that he could see his crumpled reflection in her eyes.

He was worthless. Alistair was supposed to protect his family after Fergus died! He was the one that was going to support the family, not Alice! Alice shouldn't have gone through that. She was just a baby! But she did. And their baby was dying. And there was no way they could save her. This was where they ended. Where Alice left.

Alistair's body moved on its own as he stood and pulled Wilma into his arms.

They stood sobbing and clutching onto each other as Wilma's cries filled the room. Dylan and Patrick made their way to Alice, neither crying. Dylan took Alice, small, oh so small, hand into his own. He traced the little callouses over her abnormally pale hand. They were frigid. So cold. He lightly breathed hot air on the hand, like he used to when they were children playing in the snow. Their father couldn't afford gloves, so it was common for them to use their breath to warm up each other's hands whenever they were cold. It stung that the habit had carried on with him, even though those days had since long gone. Still, he didn't cry.

Alice wouldn't want him to cry. She wouldn't want anyone to cry. She was always like that. So quiet. So selfless. He remembered her trembling lip and wide, wet eyes as she turned around to say her last words. He had watched as her bright green eyes wobbled, shinning with fear and determination.

The tears were falling from his eyes before he noticed them.

 ** _"_** ** _NO!"_** Patrick's voice erupted. They stared at him in a stunned silence. "No. No, no, no, no, no. No. She can't die! She's…She's…She's not like that." His speech was interrupted by a hiccupping sob. He turned to Alice. "She won't gie up, she's feckin Alice. Alice never gives up. we jist – we jist got 'er back!" His voice cracked, and he collapsed into the chair, sobbing.

Wilma broke away from Alistair and threw her arms around Patrick, sobbing harder.

And then, the door opened.

Heads shot to the man in the doorway. He was petite, or at least, not nearly as robust as any of the Kirkland brothers. He wore a fancy, tanned suit and dark shaded glasses. The mystery man's posture screamed power and he looked just like that other man that was in the cell with them. The small, cowardly one with brown hair.

He closed the door behind him and strutted forward. The man took off his glasses and revealed a pair of deadly, amber eyes. " _Ciao_."

"Who the fuck are you?" Surprisingly, it was Dylan that spoke up, glaring fiercely. "Can't you see we're a little busy?"

The man simply raised an eyebrow. " _Accidenti rude people britannico ..._ " He muttered, fiercely. "My name is Lovino Vargas. You may have heard of my father." His words gave him the satisfying, shocked reaction that he'd hoped to invoke.

 ** _"_** ** _You -!"_**

"I'm not here to kill anyone." Lovino said, strutting towards the bed.

Alistair's hand reached out and clasped around Lovino's wrist. Tightly. **_"You're not going anywhere near them."_** He may not have been able to protect Alice, but he'd be fucked if he let this short motherfucker come near his family.

 _Damn._ The Italian Mafia boss thought, glancing down at Alistair's hand. _The moron's got a grip._ "I'm not here to hurt any of you. I could, of course, but I'm-a not really-a wanting a bitch of a ghost chasing after me for the rest of my-a life." He gave a quick glare in Alice's direction. "And besides, I-a owe your sister too much-a to-a kill you."

"What did ye say?" Patrick nearly snarled out at him.

"Alice and I often did business with each other. She even saved my brother and his-a stupid lover's life-a. Twice." He sighed, yanking his hand out of the Scotsman's hold and went over to the foot of Alice's bed. "We've known each other a while, that's all. So, let's cut the unpleasant chit-chat and get down to business." He turned around to face the siblings.

"Your sister is dying."

"Kind of grasped that ourselves, thank you very much." Wilma hissed at him, eyes narrowed and sneer deadly. She looked so much like Alice at that point that it nearly made Lovino gape. It was his first time meeting the siblings, though he had had people stalk watch over them for a good deal of years.

"I help you." Lovino said. "The doctors here don't have the technology. I do. Let me bring my guys in here. I can help Alice."

"How do we know yer nae lyin'?" Alistair snarled at him. There was no way he was going to let some Vargas scum hurt his sister.

Lovino took another look at Alice's deadly pale face. "What have you got to lose?"

 **Translations:**

 _Uimh! Bhfuil tú ag magadh. Is é seo roinnt joke breoite... Le do thoil, Alistair, le do thoil... Inis dom go bhfuil tú ag magadh díreach._ = No! You're joking. This is some sick joke ... Please, Alistair, please ... Tell me you're just joking.

 _Accidenti rude people britannico…_ = Damn rude British people…


	48. Chapter 47

CHAPTER 47

Alice felt her crust covered, cold eyelashes tremble open.

Unknown faces peered down at her grinning. She tried to mumble something, but the tube in her mouth prevent anything besides "Mhsm whaf whis mfm whf shiiiii." A nurse came up to her and undid the godawful thing on her face, making Alice feel as though five pounds had been shaved off.

"How are you feeling?" A male doctor asked, grey eyes shining.

"…Like shit." Alice mumbled. It was true. Her chest was aching and bandaged heavily; an IV of some sort was pumping into her veins through her arm, and she felt numb everywhere. "How am I still alive?"

The doctor chuckled. "Mr. Vargas made a special request for you, as the doctors at this hospital didn't have the technology to even have an inkling on how to help you. We operated on you just a few hours ago, so you'll be feeling bad for a couple of days, but other than that and a lot of TLC, you'll be just fine."

"Lutz." Alice hissed out from gritted teeth. "What happened?"

The doctor exchanged a look with the nurse. "We don't know for sure. All we know was that we found you and Bieldschmidt in the bakery. Somehow, you made it out without a scratch on you, I mean, besides the obvious wounds. The fire miraculously didn't spread to your side, though it did kill Lutz." His grey eyes softened again. "You're a hero, Ms. Kirkland. The news is going crazy about you. There are reporters everywhere, outside of the Hospital. There's even talk of giving you a medal of Honor or being knighted by the King."

Alice didn't care. "Where are my brothers? My sister? Are they okay? What about Francis?"

"All fine, Ms. Kirkland." The man smiled. "Your siblings are waiting outside. Would you like to see them?"

"Yes." She nearly shouted. "Yes, I want to see them."

"Very good, then." The doctor turned, "Out, out! The lady wants to see her family." The room cleared.

Four heads simultaneously shot up to look at the doctor, three shades of green. "'Oy is she?" Wilma asked.

"Absolutely exhausted," The doctor grinned. "But she'll be fine as long as she's well looked after and not allowed to run around chasing serial killers. She wants to see you." As soon as the last sentence was uttered, the four siblings had disappeared, rushing to get into Alice's room. The doctor chuckled and walked away from the room to give the family some space.

Alice nearly jumped out of her skin as her siblings came crashing into the room, practically tumbling over one another.

She didn't know how to feel, watching as her siblings slowly recovered themselves, wary green eyes watching her. Alice didn't even notice that she was smiling until it was a full blown, painful grin. "So…" She started after about five minutes of painful, awkward silence, "I'm not dead."

Wilma went over to Alice, weakly sobbing and laughing at the same time. "Yer a bleedin _leathcheann_ , yer know dat?"

A laugh bubbled out of Alice's throat, throwing her arms around Wilma's waist. Tears were freely flowing from her eyes, but Alice didn't care. "I'm sorry." She snuggled closer to Wilma, craving the warm and soft heat of her sister. A sob broke out of someone and suddenly Alice was surrounded by arms and her siblings.

"Don't you dare do something so stupid and brave ever again, you hear me?" Dylan cried into Alice's shoulder, hugging her gently but in a firm hold from behind her. "Stupid girl…" Patty and Alistair said nothing, simply cradling their part of Alice in their arms tightly.

"What happened?" Alice suddenly looked up at Alistair. "What happened to you after I…left the house? You know, London."

"Ye mean af'er I kicke' ye ta the streets." Alistair muttered harshly, looking at Alice with an ashamed and bitter look. He forced his sister into homelessness and that was not something he was going to forgive or forget, ever.

Alice tensed. Oh, well. They were going to have to cover this sometime or another. "You were drunker than a bar rat. I can hardly sensibly blame you for something that stupid." The look didn't leave Alistair's face, only intensified. "Besides, I stayed with a friend for a while, so it wasn't like I was homeless or living at work." _Any more than I already do_ was on the tip of her tongue, but she left it there.

Patrick looked at Alice in confusion, "Who'd ye stay with? The wee American shite?"

She scowled fiercely at her brother. "Alfred's not a shite, and no, I stayed with another co-worker."

Wilma snorted, a smirk playing on her face. "The one with the long blonde hair, yeah? He looks like a lassie and talks like a laerd."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Yes, I stayed with him. You didn't answer my last question."

"We don't know." Dylan shrugged. "I think he drugged us or something the night before he dragged us to that godforsaken island. Who was the bastard, anyway?"

"I assume you met Lovino?" Alice grimaced as she watched the expressions on her siblings' face. "After I left England, I became a violinist. I used to travel around the world, mostly Europe, and play for a bunch of nobles at their parties and all that shite. My orchestra was in Italy for a while and I had the _oh so fortunate_ luck of being in a restaurant at the same time that the Vargas Mafia decided to break out in a gun fight."

She took some enjoyment in the looks from her brothers and sister. Just some. "I ended up saving two men, the ones that were in the cell room with you, you know, the blonde stocky one and the little noodle one? Yeah, those two. Anyway, by saving those two morons, I blew Lovino's cousin's cover. His name was Venziano, and he was shot by this sniper in Lovino's mafia. An utter asshole, but not a bad shot." She mumbled an _I would know_ under her breath before continuing. "Venziano's boyfriend basically went psycho after that and stalked me for years before…" Alice looked up guiltily at Dylan. "He arranged the accident in America to get my attention. To get me to come back to England, among other things."

A variety of looks passed through Dylan's face. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Anger. Frustration. Calm. "I don't care." Dylan said, knowing exactly what Alice was going to say before it left her mouth. "Really, it was a blessing in disguise, wasn't it? You wouldn't have come home if it wasn't for–"

"No!" Alice cut him off, eyes blazing with desperation and pain. " Don't you dare say that. I was always coming back. It might've taken me five, ten, fifteen, or even fucking fifty years, but I was coming back."

"Then why did ye leave?" Wilma cut off Alice.

"I had to." She nearly whined. "I didn't want to go. Especially so soon after Papa died, but…"

"…But...?"

"If I didn't go," Her voice felt tiny. "I would have died."

 ** _"_** ** _What!?"_**

"Just before I left England, I…I had been coughing up blood for a few days and I was constantly feeling like shit." Alice sighed. "I didn't say anything, because the last thing we needed on top of Papa dying and mountains of bills; was someone else getting sick. Besides, there are plenty of things that could have caused me to cough up blood and most of them have a cure, nowadays."

She expected some ferocious scolding from her family, but all that came was Dylan's soft whisper. "This is why you left, then?"

Alice nodded. "The doctor said it was stomach cancer." She ignored she sharp hisses of breath from Wilma and Dylan, and the loud cusses from Patrick and Alistair. "It was still in the early stages, so they could remove the tumor with a high chance of success. I was scheduled for surgery some few months after when Papa would die, so I didn't worry too much. But then it got worse. The doctor that was going to do my surgery here in England had gone to Jamaica for vacation and there were no other doctors in England willing to take me on such a short notice."

She continued, "I looked all over Europe before one doctor in Berlin agreed to take me in as she had a spot open after a patient cancelled on her. That's why I had to leave England so suddenly." Alice paused. "Rehab alone took a lot of time and _all_ of my money, so there was no way I could get back home, yet. I ended up finding a job as concert master in a travelling orchestra, saving up money as I went. Despite playing for the higher-ups, I didn't make much money."

"Until the incident in Italy and the crash in America?" Wilma guessed.

"It took all my money. I had to sell my clothes and wedding ring, too."

Alistair looked horrified. **_"Wedding ring! Wha' ta bluudy hell did ye have a wedding ring for?!"_**

"To ogle at all day and pretend that I was married to the King of Portugal." Alice rolled her eyes. "I was going to get married. With my conductor, actually. He was the one that offered me the job as concert master. Of course, it didn't work out, seeing as he couldn't keep it in his pants until the wedding."

"The bastard cheated on ye?" Wilma's expression was a perfect mix of humor and anger.

"Right on the wedding day, actually." Alice smirked. "A little bit after I broke the engagement off, I got a call from Lovino saying that Dylan had had an 'accident'."

Patrick was quiet for a moment before saying, "Ye're an idiot." He sighed. "I can see why ye had to leave for Europe, though I think ye're no as bright as everyone says ye are. Surely, ye had enough money ta call us and let us know that you were all right?"

She blushed brightly, "Fair enough."

"We thought the worst, you know." Dylan muttered quietly, still holding onto Alice from behind her. "We thought you were dead, or were a victim of human trafficking. We didn't know what to think and the police didn't care enough to keep looking after a year."

Alice felt her chest squeeze tightly with guilt. "I know." She unconsciously leaned into Dylan's hold. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Wha' did Pa say te ye, before ye left." Alistair stared intently at her. "Ye promised that, too, ye ken."

Alice felt her breath hitch. Yes, she did promise that. "There's no easy way to say this…"

"And telling us that you had cancer, got shot, made ties with a Mafia, nearly got married, and was stalked by a psychopath was easier?" Patrick snorted. Dylan, Alistair, and Wilma gave him a fleeting glare before turning back to her.

"Yes." Alice grumbled. She said something under her breath, but her siblings couldn't make it out.

"We cannae hear ye, bunny." Alistair scolded her, "Can ye no speak louder?"

"Half." Alice raised her voice, looking positively queasy. "I said half."

"Half- _what?_ " Dylan gave her a pointed look.

…

…

…

"Half-sister."

Alice looked down at her scarred and calloused palms. They were so small. So small and trembling. They were nothing her father's, big and strong and kind. She closed her eyes and remembered.

 _Alice was the last one to go see Father. It seemed fitting enough, going from oldest to youngest. She ignored the clench in her stomach, listening to Wilma's sobs in the room over. Alice felt like shit. She was fatigued and she hadn't touched food in a little over a day. It hurt to eat. It was even harder to keep the food down._

"He was laying there in the bed. He looked paler than a sheet and his eyes were glassy." She said, "He smiled – or at least tried to – and grabbed my hand."

 _Fergus' gravelly voice seemed to calm Alice. The pain of the cancer was forgotten, as was the rest of the world. His eyes seemed to gleam but in a tired, anxious way. "Awright, paukit lassie." Alice felt the smallest of smiles cross her face. Every kid had a special nickname. Alistair was 'wee scunner' in an endearing way, of course; Dylan was 'wee lad'; Patrick was 'wee besom'; Wilma was 'wee lassie', and Alice was 'paukit lassie'. It meant 'tiny girl', vs. 'small girl' as Wilma was called. Alice had hated that name for the longest time before accepting that it was just the way her Father did things and that was that._

 _"_ _Hi, fæder." Alice said, drawing up in a chair near his bedside._

"He…He told me the usual stuff, you know, follow your dreams but have a safety net, that sort of thing." Alice sighed. "Told me he loved me and that if I were to settle down, to give the person a kick in the balls for him." She dared to look up at her siblings' faces. Nothing. Nervousness racked through her as she took another shuddering breath and continued. "Papa said that…he and Mum were arguing a lot about whether or not she should continue to work. Mum said that if she didn't, their debt would sink them even deeper into the hole. Papa knew it was true, but thought that it would be better for her to stay with you guys at home because of how poor her health was."

"I remember that." Dylan said softly. "They always tried to keep it hush-hush around us, but I remember that sometimes it got out of hand."

"One night, it got so bad that Mum just plain stormed out of their apartment in Dublin." Alice continued on, "She got wasted and met this man. He was just as wasted – if not more – than her and had also gotten in a fight with his lover. They…" She couldn't find it in her to say the words. "Anyway, Mum found out that she was pregnant and Dad found her sobbing in their bedroom. She told him everything and he was so furious, he said. Not at her, Dad said. But at the bastard who obviously slept with a married woman when he was not only taken, but that Mum was completely wasted, too. It didn't take him long to track down the man."

At this, Alice left out a bitter laugh. She didn't notice she was crying again until little, nearly invisible, clear drops dripped down onto her hospital gown. "The man made a bargain with Papa. He would pay for all of Mum's future hospital bills and pay off a quarter of their debt _and_ take the baby with him back to his home somewhere in Southern Europe or whatever. Mum signed the contract before Papa had even heard about it." She snorted, "He was so mad at her for that he didn't speak to her for a week."

"Aye, I remember it." Alistair said.

"He kept to his deal right until Mum died." Alice muttered, "He paid all the hospital bills and even took her to the best hospital in London. He needed an heir, or something, as he was probably an aristocrat telling by his clothes, Papa had said. And he paid the quarter of their debt, just as he promised. But…"

"But?"

"Well, clearly, I'm still here." Alice raised an eyebrow at them. "…My real father didn't want me. And really, could you honestly blame him? Don't give me that look, Willy. The doctors thought I was going to die in a matter of days, maybe weeks if the Gods above were feeling particularly cruel. And besides, there was a healthier and stronger boy he could take, instead." A round of shocked, chocked, and gargled noises came from her siblings. She blushed.

"I have a twin brother." Alice shifted, nervously. "Or, at least, had. I don't know what happened to him. I have no idea what his or my father's name were or was, so I have no idea who they are."

 ** _"_** ** _Ye ken who yer father is, Bunny."_** Alistair hissed at her. "Yer father is our father, not ta fuckin' bastard who abandoned ye because ye are a girl and ye nae always in good health."

"Besides, it was a good thing he thought ye were going to die." Wilma smirked. "I doubt ye'd ever be a good princess and even if yer not related to us by Kirkland blood, ye're still as every bit of Kirkland as the rest of us."

Patty snorted. "Just goes to show ye that family isn't made out of blood, but bonds." They stared. "What?"

"That was surprisingly…" Dylan started.

"Deep." Alice offered.

"Especially from rough an' tumbling Patty, eh?" Alistair smirked, taking one arm and raking in poor, unsuspecting Patty in for an arm lock and then a noogie.

"Oi!"

Through the shouts and the rapidly accumulating fight (really, it was surprising that they had gone this long without a fight) between two Irish twins and one Scotsman, Dylan's hand reached out and firmly held hers. " _Rydych yn ein chwaer ni waeth beth ac os oes gan rywun broblem gyda hynny, bydd yn rhaid iddynt wynebu pedwar Kirklands ddig._ "

She smiled and held his hand tighter. " _Diolch_."

 **Translations:**

 _Leathcheann_ = Idiot.

 _Rydych yn ein chwaer ni waeth beth ac os oes gan rywun broblem gyda hynny, bydd yn rhaid iddynt wynebu pedwar Kirklands ddig._ = You are our sister no matter what and if someone has a problem with that, they will have to face four angry Kirklands.

 _Diolch_. = Thanks.


	49. Chapter 48

CHAPTER 48

Alfred's head shot up as Alice's brothers and sister left the room.

"How is she?" He asked, rushing over to them. He was vaguely aware of Francis and Matthew getting up, as well. "Is she okay?"

Dylan nodded, his face still red from crying. "Alice is fine, just a bit tired. She wants to see you, now."

Of all of Alice's stupid family, Alfred disliked Dylan the least. Dylan was kind, kinder than the rest of them. And he could cook a mean stew or Shepard's pie. He was like Alice, but the decaf version. "And you guys made up?" Alfred asked, glaring up at Alistair. Alice had been the only person holding him back from punching the shit out of that guy when they had kicked Alice out. She said to let her handle it, and Alfred had respected that.

Barely.

Alistair nodded. At least the damn bastard had the conscious to look guilty. "Good, good." Alfred said. "I figured. Alice always forgave you twats too easily." Patrick looked like he was about to say something in his brother's defense, but Francis cut them off with a sharp glare.

"I personally can say zat what you did is not somezing zat can be forgiven easily." Francis stepped forward, Matthew cuddled in his arms. It was amazing that he managed to look so deadly while holding a child that was practically the embodiment of cuteness. "My family zrew me out of my home only just a few years ago, all because I did some stupid stuff. But Alice did nozing wrong. She worked, she paid bills, she put food on the table. Alice took care of you. All ze zings Alice did, zey were for you. Oui, I understand zat she was nearly never home. However, zat does not give you ze right to act like a group of spoiled rotten children. If you really want to see her more, why don't you try working for once, instead of lazing around like a sack of potatoes?"

He didn't stop there. "Do you know what I saw zat cold, rainy night? I saw a woman of greatness, defeated. She sat in ze dark, disgusting alley way, too absorbed in her own world to notice me. She was crying. She was crying because ze people she loved most left her. You abandoned her in ze cold, dark world wiz nozing but ze clozes on her back." Francis continued to rant. "What if I hadn't been ze one to find her? Someone could have easily taken advantage of her. Alice hated herself. She couldn't have cared what happened. And for days and days, she worried and talked only about you. And for some unintelligible, stupid reason, she still loves and cares for you. So next time, instead of being ze little shits you are and taking advantage of your amazing sister, you could actually do somezing worz while."

Alfred nearly gaped at Francis, but then remembered that he too had something to say on the subject, though not nearly as PG he had put it. Instead, he gave them the fiercest, most Alice-like glare he could muster. "If you bastards do anything to fucking hurt her, even just one damn little comment, and I fucking will come for you. I won't let her hold me back like last time. If you do something that damn stupid ever again, I will make you regret it." He paused, relishing in the nervousness in their eyes. "Ya see this here arm? Yeah, it can do a lot. It's especially handy in knocking down locked doors. And when I mean knocking down, I mean splintering. I wonder what it could do to human bones…Let's not find out, shall we?"

The Kirkland siblings gaped, but Alfred and Francis didn't care, storming into Alice's hospital room.

She smiled softly from the bed. "You didn't have to be so harsh on them, you know." She looked like an angel to Francis. Her messy blonde hair cascaded down her back, she was cloaked in all white, and the light that seeped into the room was warm and bright.

Alfred snorted. "I went easy on them." He rushed over to Alice's bedside and pulled her into a tight hug. She smiled leaning in.

"Hey, Alfie."

The two of them said nothing and Alfred let go, reluctantly, but the American kept a firm hold on her hand. It was interesting watching them interact with each other, Francis thought, looking on at them. They understood each other without even having to communicate. Something was moving in his arms. Francis looked down, eyebrow raised. Matthew met his papa's eyes, big and shiny. He pointed to Alice with a finger, his bottom lip trembling. Francis smirked inside, putting on the good old puppy eyes, hm? The Frenchman smiled and set Matthew on the floor.

The little boy walked tentatively up to Alice, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. " _Bonjour,_ Matthew." Alice smiled down softly at the little boy. Matthew softly, before making a small sound.

Francis' jaw dropped. He looked at Alice, seeing her shocked face only confirmed it. Alfred frowned, slightly confused. He had heard that Francis' kid was mute. " _…Je…J-je… vo-vous remercie._ " Francis felt a rainbow of emotions. His son was talking. His son was talking.

 ** _Matthew was talking!_**

Alice paused before responding. She'd read somewhere that making a big deal about the child speaking might scare them and make them go quiet again. " _Quoi ... Pour quoi faire?_ " She kept her voice soft and level, but she stuttered a little at the end.

"Papa..." Matthew managed. " _Moi…protégé. Je vous remercie._ "

She smiled. " _Vous êtes les bienvenus, chérie_." She patted the hospital bed. " _Voulez-vous vous asseoir ici avec moi?_ " The small boy nodded, smiling shyly. At this, Francis strode forward to the bed, knowing that Matthew wasn't tall enough to reach and Alice was too weak to lift him up. Gently, he took up his son and sat him in the spot that Alice had cleared, just against her hip. Immediately, the little boy snuggled up to the Englishwoman and she didn't seem to mind, cheeks flushed pink.

Francis watched adoringly. His heart felt as though it were to burst any second then.

Alfred on the other hand was bursting and having a very hard time holding it in. The feels! The fucking feels, man.


	50. Chapter 49

CHAPTER 49

 _Five months later…_

The Englishwoman gazed off into the sunny skies of London. It was the end of April and the flowers were blooming. Everything in London was at peace again. Many people were still talking about the Beildschmidt case, but people had settled down since the first week or so that Alice was out of the hospital.

She hadn't stepped into her work until a month or so ago, when her family finally decided that it was okay for her to venture out into the real world again. Things had been going fine. Great, even. There had been no homicides, and Matthew was safe with his father, who was also safe. And quite happy, too. Alice had a huge weight lifted off of her chest. The case was solved; she could talk with her siblings without any tenseness. Usually. Their family was fucked up. They had been that way since for as long as Papa died. One might even say that it started after their Mum had passed away. You couldn't fix together something that broken in a week.

But they'd get there. Anything can be fixed with enough superglue.

"So, you're-a not-a dead."

Alice nearly whipped her head around to screech at the short, cocky Italian man that he was late. No, she wouldn't do that. It'd just give him some sort of satisfaction. She paused and counted to five seconds. Then, a firm sigh. "I hope you're not disappointed." Alice didn't look at him. Not yet. Make the wanker wait for a few minutes.

"Hmm, no, you're still useful to me. Even if I'm sure there are more negatives than positives in keeping you around."

Alice nearly snorted. "I hope that wasn't a confession, Pasta-head." She didn't offer him a glance, testing his patience. "You're married, now. It'd be a shame if I needed to fight off the entire airhead's army to win my fair lady's hand, now wouldn't it?"

An undignified squall came from behind her. Now she did smirk. "How about it, dickwad? Ready to fight it out for Lovino's honor?"

Lovino ignored the fact that Antonio was barely being held back by at least seven other Mafia and or pirates. "You seem to be under the impression that I'm a virgin." He was scowling down at her.

Alice winked. "I'm no saint either, sweetheart." Oh, dear lord. Alice nearly burst out laughing, watching the slight blush spread across Lovino's tanned face. She stood from her spot on the park bench and was met with Lovino, a practically steaming Antonio, and eight shocked faces. At that, she snickered. Probably were trying to contemplate how she managed to get away with flirting with Lovino without getting killed or beaten to death. "Lutz is right here." She pointed vaguely to the urn. Alice had had cremated him, since the Mafia had nearly no interest in what happened to his body afterwards. The man was insane, yes, but Alice was partly to blame for that.

Lovino took the urn. "Any requests as to where to spread it."

"The ocean." Alice spoke immediately. "Make sure it's the same spot where you dumped Venziano."

" _Sì, ragazza._ " It was Feliciano who had spoken. "We'll-a make-a sure-a to that-a." Ludwig nodded slightly from behind the Italian and that was enough for Alice.

"Well, is there anything you'd like as a reward, witch?" Lovino asked her, causing heads to turn in very _well_ hidden shock. He took out a rectangular package from his pocket. "Care for a pack of _Jolly Sailor_?"

Alice looked down at the pack of cigars and nearly drooled. Jolly Sailor was her father's favorite cigar brand. It was the nastiest she ever had, but had held sentimental value, and that made it better than anything. The brand had sold out years and years ago. This was one of the few, if not the last, of the Jolly Sailors in the world.

"No," She sighed. "I've quit. I will ask you for something else instead, though."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. Even Lovino was in shock.

"My brother, Dylan," Alice said. "Lutz is the reason why he lost his legs."

"Fair enough," Lovino said. "Any particular kind?"

She shook her head. "As long as they're new, have at least ten years' warranty, and are hypo-allergenic, I don't care."

"Shouldn't be hard to do. Expect something to come your way in a couple of months." Lovino said and turned around, waving slightly. " _Ciao, ragazza._ "

After that, Antonio trudged on behind him, but not before giving Alice the nastiest glare she'd ever seen by a non – Kirkland. Ludwig and Feliciano showered her in thanks and praise before they too left. Elizabeta sobbed on her shoulder and nearly strangled her with a hug, and that took Alice by surprise. Kiku bowed and then left, smiling slightly. That she did expect.

The last was a man about her height, with silver hair and ruby red eyes. He gave her a loud, obnoxious laugh. "Kesesesesesesese~!" He sniggered. "I've never seen anyone talk to Lovino like zat. Antonio looked like he vwas going to blow a socket."

"I've got a bit of a knack for pissing people off. Antonio is so easy it's ridiculous." She shook hands with him. "Alice Kirkland."

He laughed that weird laugh again. "Ah, I finally get to meet ze hero!" His red eyes softened slightly. "You saved my bruder. Twice. _Danke_. My name is Gilbert Beildschmidt."

Her eyes widened but said nothing. "Lutz was our cousin, you know." Gilbert said, noticing her silence. "He was a good man. Before, I mean. But after Venzi died…"

Alice nodded absently. "I understand."

"And thank you, for putting him to justice." Gilbert continued. "I know you could care less about it, but I know zat he was just miserable like zat, all alone in ze world."

She said nothing for a minute, knowing that she would have only growled out something about how the mad man had killed four people viciously and attempted to kill at least eight others, and then finally decided, "He liked languages, then?"

"Loved zem. He knew Chinese, Russian, Belarussian, Japanese, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese. You name it, he probably knew it." Gilbert said. "Loved ruins, too. And he vwas good at forging handwriting, since zat vwas what he started doing from ze beginning. He used to forge documents and money, you could never tell the difference unless he told you. Unless you were Venzi."

"He could spot the difference, then?" Alice asked.

"Zat vwas how zey made a connection." Gilbert shrugged. "Venzi wanted a document for some blackmail, Lutty vwas good at making fakes."

"A match made in heaven."

"Hell, more like."

"And what about Johnny? Johnny Tucker?" Alice asked. "Why was he killed?"

"Johnny had a bad gambling habit and went nearly homeless in Las Vegas. Lutty helped him, but for a price." Gilbert sighed. "I would assume that he used Johnny to take pictures and stalk you. Probably even set up the incident in America, but Lutty ran out of uses for Johnny after that. We found cyanide in Johnny's stomach after we searched him."

Alice sighed, letting all the pieces of the case fit together in the small, shattered pieces that they were.

"I've seen you before." Gilbert said, "But not under the name Alice Kirkland. What was it?"

"Guinevere, probably." She said, "Guinevere de Lyonesse."

He grinned. "Kesesesesesesese~!" Gilbert's ruby eyes shone. "I knew you looked familiar."

"It was my stage name." She smiled. "It was fancy enough for top-hats and skirts, so I kept it. None of them knew that it was Queen Guinevere's maiden name from the King Arthur legends, though."

"I'm a huge fan." Gilbert said. "I play the flute, but I always envied the violin. Never had the knack, though." He looked down at his watch. "Damn. Well, it's time for me to go. I have to go and get to the blimp before Luddy kills me." And then he was gone, just like that.

Alice looked away into the bright sky again, thinking about the man with the red eyes. Something about him seemed similar. Not in a bad way, though, which was a welcome change. Had she given him an autograph or something? No, she never did that. The higher-ups didn't find it classy to ask for someone else's autograph. Well, whatever. She had to get back home.

Alice had a date with a frog, today.

XXX

Alice yelped.

"Oi!" She cried, clutching her head with one hand. "Watch it."

"It's no' mah bloody fault ye can' even brush ye're hair once a week." Wilma snarled back at her. "Seriously, ye don' have to be girly, just brush ye're damn mob once in a while, will yeh?"

"Is that really coming from the girl who chopped off all of her hair to keep from having to brush it every morning?" Alice shot back, wincing as Wilma continued to viciously attack the pale, seemingly-permed-lion's-mane that was called her hair.

"I donated it." Wilma said.

"Not even the mop factory would have taken that thing – _OW!_ "

"Girls, would you stop it?" Dylan sighed, mumbling a few cuss words from behind the sisters. "Alice, how the hell do you not any socially acceptable clothing to wear?"

"Being pretty isn't exactly in my job description, now is it?"

Dylan sighed. "Wilma, keep working on the hair and makeup. I'm out to go get her something proper to wear." He rolled away. **_"Patrick Ian Fionn Kirkland and Alistair William James Kirkland, get your god damn arses off of that, or so help me –!"_**

Wilma and Alice snickered as a chorus of surprised yelps came from Patty and Alistair. "Get your shoes and coat on, we're going to buy a dress and shoes. Possibly jewelry, too, seeing as our idiot sister doesn't even have a candy ring layin' around here." Dylan's voice was soft again, but it held a razor sharp tone. And with a few scuffles, they were gone.

XXX

The boys were back, about thirty minutes later.

"Have you finished yet, Wilma?" Dylan rolled up the stairs, Patrick and Alistair trailing behind him.

"Nearly," Wilma growled out. "I can't find any lipstick."

"I figured. Here," Patrick threw a stick at her. "Found it in the clearance isle."

Wilma caught it seamlessly, quickly opening and inspecting the lipstick. She frowned slightly. "It's not the best color for her skin tone, but it'll do." Patrick and Alistair snorted at that, but said nothing. Wilma shot them a quick glare before applying the lipstick.

Her siblings left the room after that, letting her change into the dress that they had bought. She stared at the mirror. The dress had a white Peter Pan collar, which rested stark against the black dress. The dress reached to her kneecaps and the sleeves completely covered her arms. They completely covered her scars. She was thankful for that.

Alice smiled slightly, looking at her reflection. It wasn't what she was used to, that was for sure. Wilma had managed to tame her curly blonde hair, though there was a slight wave to it still. Alice spotted the pair of stud earrings that her siblings had left on the bed. She fastened the small pieces of jewelry into her ears, before crossing the room to slip on her heels. They were the only pair that she owned and they were simple, with a two-inch heel and completely black.

She slipped them on easily and opened the door to see Wilma and Dylan waiting for her outside. "Well?" Alice asked. "How do I look?"

"Classy." Dylan smiled, "But not boring."

Wilma smirked. "Five pounds says the baguette starts drooling as soon as he sees you."

"Come on, I thought you knew better than that, Wilma." Dylan smirked back up at her. "If you're going to bet on something you know is going to happen, you might as well make a profit."

"Think I can get Patty to put up twenty?"

"Enough, you two." Alice scolded, blushing to the tips of her hair. She was probably as red as Alistair's hair right then. The doorbell ringed.

Wilma headed back down the ramp. "And so Prince Charming arrives!"


	51. AN: Important

**Boo hoo! The Game is On is nearly finished** **(ಥ﹏ಥ)**

 **It's been a fun journey with you guys, and I'm so happy that this story has been so successful. As my first fan-fiction on this account, I couldn't have asked for better. Now that The Game is On is finished, my job is to go back and post translations and fix grammar mistakes. I don't know how long this will take, so I can't give you a definite date, but... _There will be a sequel!_ **

**The sequel will be called _Blood on the Pavement_. I can't release too much information, but there will be clowns, international political drama, travelling, and the rest of the Bonnefoy empire will be sure to make an appearance.**

 **I don't know the exact date that Blood on the Pavement will be released, and the sequel will for sure not be out until after The Game is On has been edited. Another thing, I will be posting a series of FrUK one-shots that will have the prompt of one noun per chapter. There will be straight, yaoi, and yuri, as well. I will be posting this series (I still don't have a name for it yet, so if you have any good ideas, be sure to post them in the comment section or PM me) while I am writing Blood on the Pavement.**

 **Thank you all for reading this.**

 **\- frukshipper4life (｡◕‿‿◕｡)**


	52. Grand Finale!

CHAPTER 50

Francis smiled at Alice.

She looked adorable in that dress, while still looking well-put together. It was the first time he had seen her in a real dress and wearing jewelry. Let alone heels. " _Vous êtes belle._ " Francis said, ignoring the burning glares from Alistair. Which in itself was an impressive feat, but Francis worked with Alice. At this point, he doubted anything her siblings did could really scare him.

He enjoyed the flush of her cheeks. " _Merci._ _Vous avez l'air beau, aussi._ " Alice remarked, stuttering slightly.

Alistair interrupted with a loud groan. "Ye kin flirt efter, whaur ah cannae see ye!"

Alice rolled her eyes at her brother. "You don't even know French."

"He doesn't need to." Patrick huffed, fixing a stern glare on Francis. "We can tell what you're saying jist by 'ow ye two morons are blatherin' ter each other."

"Aye, anyone with one tenth of a brain can see ye two ogling at each other." Wilma smiled, though her eyes screamed murder.

"Whaur urr ye planning oan taking her, then?" Alistair asked.

"Just dancing and zen to ze restaurant a couple blocks away."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, aye?"

"I'm not telling you where we're going, zat would spoil ze surprise for Alice." Francis looked up at Alistair defiantly. "I already told Alfred where we're going, so if she's not home by ten thirty, you can just call him."

Alistair didn't like the sound of that, giving a low growl, but he decided to let it go after seeing Dylan give him a 'Please, for the love of God, just shut up' look. "And ye ken the rules, aye?" Alistair turned to look at Alice. "Na winchin' on the foremaist date, leave at least a five-inch distance atween ye whin jiggin, and no throwing a sausage up a close."

"What?" Francis looked dumbfounded.

She smiled at him, pitying. Even she had a hard time with Alistair's accent and she had been living with him for her whole life. "He said: 'No kissing on the first date, leave at least a five-inch distance between you when dancing, and no sex.'"

Francis turned a deep red at this. " _Oh, oui, je comprends._ "

Alice shook her head, slipping on her trench coat and then grabbing Francis' hand. It was warm. "I'll be home later and I'll have my phone on me in case something happens." And then they were gone.

XXX

Alice and Francis swayed across the dance floor, the quartet playing softly in the background. Alice was smiling softly into the crook of Francis' neck. They were flushed up against each other, one of her hands on his shoulder and the other holding his free hand. Francis' other hand was resting on her waist. She smirked inside at the thought of Alistair losing his shit if he knew she was already breaking rule one.

"How did you know that I liked to dance?" She asked, voice coming out softer than she had expected.

She felt him shrug slightly. "I just guessed. I mean, remember zat one case we were on? Ze one where we were spying on ze suspect, Barrington, I zink it was. You were paying more attention to ze dancer zan I zought you would."

Alice hummed. "Good thing you were lucky and guessed right. The first date would have gone terribly if I didn't know how to dance."

Francis looked affronted. "Zis is not a first date! Remember Italy?"

"Those were dinner and lunches between colleagues," She reminded him. "And besides, we were on a case and we were interrupted in the second time."

"Fair enough, neizer of zose went well. I can do better zan zat." Francis twirled her slightly. "Your brozer would kill me if he knew we were zis close to each other."

In response, she just leaned in closer. "Which one?" She feigned ignorance.

Francis snorted. "Ze Scottish one."

"Ah, that one." Alice said, "Well, what he doesn't know won't kill him." Francis sniggered softly, tightening his grip on Alice softly.

XXX

Alice looked over the dark, glistening water of the Thames. Francis stood beside her, slightly fidgeting. "Alice, I –" and at the same time she said, "Francis, I –"

They stopped abruptly and stared at each other. "God, this is like a terrible teen romance movie on re-run."

" _Oui_?" Francis said, watching her nervously.

Alice's head whipped around to him. Her bright green eyes stared right into his indigo ones, fire of determination crackling. "Francis, I've never met anyone like you before."

" _Quelle?_ " The Frenchman asked. " _Est-ce bien ou mal?_ "

She ignored him, charging on. "You make the most irritated person ever. I could punch you in the face every time you make a suggestive waggle of your eyebrows. I could strangle you for every single time you open your mouth to say something lewd. Francis, you're so dramatic that sometimes I forget that we're not on the set in a theater. You're clumsy, messy, and frivolous. You never listen to the orders I give you, even though I'm your boss and control your paycheck. You're so feminine that I often find myself questioning my own sexuality." Alice ignored the hurt look on Francis' face. She took a deep inhale. "But you…you're special to me. You've showed me how beautiful the world is. And you've shown me that it's okay to stop and appreciate the beauty of the world, even for me. You're the kindest person I've ever met and I owe you so much. But most of all, I love you. I'm in love the way you nibble on your lips when you're thinking. I'm in love the way you make my tea. I'm in love the way you take care of me, even when it's not your job. I'm in love your hair, your stubby beard, your eyes, your voice. And I love it when you speak French. I love your food. I love everything about you."

French opened and closed his mouth. And opened it. And closed it. Alice was redder than her brother's hair, but her blazing green eyes stayed on his. Fearless. Fearless in the sense that she was scared, but she kept pressing on, trembling.

"I don't deserve you and I don't expect anything. I don't even need a response, but just…You need to know how I feel about you. When Lutz took you, I – I didn't know what to do. I was an idiot when I allowed you to come with me to the club. I should've known that he would've followed me. I shouldn't have nearly kissed you then. You've become such a huge part of my life now that I couldn't – can't – imagine what it would be like without you in my life." Shit, she was stuttering. "You do something to me. My heart is always racing around you. Francis, you make me want to be a better person – which is something I've never wanted to be. Ever."

"I'll always have enemies. Lutz won't be the first person to be crazy and after me. I want to promise you that we could be normal, that we could be safe. But I can't. We'll never be that one couple that leaves in a nice house with a white picket fence in the country with farm animals. Hell, I don't even know if I can promise you that I'll be alive another month or so, with all the shit I get in." Alice gave a bitter chuckle. Her eyes softened, gazing up at Francis. "But I can promise you something: _Même si vous décidez que vous ne voulez pas rester avec moi, mon coeur appartiendra toujours à vous. Je t'aime._ "

Francis stared, dumbfounded, as his heart thundered inside his chest. It felt like it was going to burst in seconds. He realized that he had been too quiet for too long when Alice cleared out her throat ashamedly. "Of course, you don't have to – I mean, I won't –"

Francis cut her off with a kiss.

She tasted like mint and Earl Grey tea and something that could only ever be described as _Alice._ He noted, with smug satisfaction, that Alice responded instantly. She let out a soft sight, leaning in closer and moving against his lips. Francis' hand found itself entangled in her ashen hair, pulling her in closer. Alice responded by nibbling at his lips softly. "You silly woman," Francis rested his forehead against hers. "I'm French – born and raised in the city of Love – I'm supposed to confess first."

"Well," There was that glorious smile. Warm, soft, and comforting. "I've never been good with rules."

"Duly noted." Francis kissed her swollen lips again. "Don't zink so low of yourself, darling. I hate it when you do zat." He kissed her cold hands. "You see zese? Zese hands are calloused and nozing like mine. Zey are worn from hard work and righteousness. Zese hands have brought justice to hundreds of people. Zey've done something noble and precious, unlike mine. Zese hands make ze most beautiful music that I've, no, all of Europe has heard. Zese callouses and scars, walk wiz zem proudly and know zat zey are precious."

Alice flushed. "Shut up."

" _Non._ It's not fair for you to express your love so freely and zen not allow me to respond properly." Francis trailed tiny butterfly kisses up Alice's neck, smirking as she swallowed nervously. "Your accent always sounds so incredibly sexy, especially when you speak French." Francis winked and watched as the delicious blush darkened.

He continued, "Ze only zing I've ever wanted from you was your love, _chéri_." Francis's lips met hers again. "As for people like Lutz, I'll worry. I'll always worry. But I'll be zere wiz you, too. So, as long as I am by your side, I'll protect you. Don't give me zat look, Alice. It's natural to protect someone you love, _non_? You can't stop me. Even if it's stupid, or reckless, or dangerous; I will always protect you –"

Alice cut him off with a kiss. It quickly developed into a snogging session. She pulled away, panting. Her eyes locked in on his swollen lips and smiled. "This is by far the most pleasant way to shut you up."

With a light blush, Francis smirked down at her. Alice's heart hiccupped. "You've broken two out of zree rules."

She wore her own smirk, putting her rough hand in his smooth one. Everything was right in the world again. No, it was better than it was before. And it would keep getting better, with Francis at her side. "Is that an invitation?"

 **…** **THE END…**

 **Translations:**

 _Vous êtes belle._ = You are beautiful.

 _Merci._ _Vous avez l'air beau, aussi._ = Thank you. You look beautiful, too.

 _Oh, oui, je comprends._ = Oh, yes, I understand.

 _Oui_? = Yes?

 _Quelle?_ = What?

 _Est-ce bien ou mal?_ = Is that good or bad?

 _Même si vous décidez que vous ne voulez pas rester avec moi, mon coeur appartiendra toujours à vous. Je t'aime._ = Even if you decide you can not stay with me, my heart will always belong to you. I love you.

 _Non_ = No.

 _Chéri_ = Dear.


End file.
